LETTER I. Arrival at Tetuan, and at La Rache.—Of the Moors.—Of the Prince Muley Ali Acid.

OF this little African journey, or em⯑baſſy, which we have undertaken, and at length begun, I do not mean to trouble you with very circumſtantial accounts—nor with deſcriptions, itineraries, or journals, nor perhaps with any thing in [2] the uſual ſtyle of Travels: a few detached obſervations on the people, with ſuch re⯑flections as I may think worth your notice, will probably be the chief amount of what you have to expect: et tout a ma façon, retaining always the liberty to ſtop at any place I pleaſe, and digreſs to any ſubject that may come near my way, or ſeem connected with it:—but all as time and occaſion may chance to ſuit: the na⯑tural uncertainty of all human hopes ſeems to increaſe as we advance upon this dreary continent: you muſt take the little I can give, and be thankful. If we could reſtrain the minuteneſs of modern trifling curio⯑ſity, and go ſtraight to what is uſeful, how much labour might be ſaved, and how much farther might we go!

You heard of our arrival at laſt, after all the oppoſition of weather and Genoeſe ſea⯑manſhip: but thoſe were only the beginning of our labours:—the difficulties, noiſe, wrang⯑lings, and time loſt, in getting to Tetuan, after landing within a mile of it, and in getting the ſmalleſt thing done in this country, [3] are not to be equalled even in Spain, nor in any other place you may be acquainted with. Tetuan is conſidered as the beſt town in theſe dominions, but to us it appeared a very wretched place. A dreary ſilence, poverty, indolence, and dirt, were to us the ſtriking features of their firſt and moſt populous city. Its inhabitants are, however, their beſt look⯑ing people, being probably a mixed race from Spain, Arabs, and natives. Upon the banks of that little river which paſſes near the town, there is ſome tolerable cultivation, and ſome little gardens; but all of them jealouſly concealed, and curiouſly ſhut up, almoſt as much as their houſes in town, where there is not a window nor an open⯑ing to be ſeen.

Among ſo many new objects, one hardly knows which to mention; for to mention all is impoſſible. The total want of ſociety, and almoſt of converſation among them⯑ſelves, ſeems to us equally diſmal and ſur⯑priſing. People bred in ſuch countries are totally ignorant of the ſocial principle which we ſuppoſe natural to man. Though [4] yoked by nature to each other, and brought to live together in towns for mutual con⯑venience, yet are they unacquainted with the pleaſures of ſociety, and incapable of en⯑joying them: their very houſes and gardens look like priſons to ſhut themſelves up in, and to exclude every eye, and almoſt the light of the ſun, and ſeem, as it were, to turn away from each other. When by chance two or three people are ſeen ſitting together, which is ſeldom, and commonly upon their heels on the dirty ground againſt a wall, it is all in ſilence: we ſeldom ſee them converſe, I think, except when angry. Such are Eaſtern manners, and the effects of oppreſſion! Men, while oppreſſed, are not communicative; and they muſt pro⯑bably be at their eaſe before they can be ſociable and humane.

The French ſay, qu'il faut aimer quelque choſe toujours, but I think theſe people love nothing. A ſullen indolence and in⯑difference ſeem to exclude every paſſion and principle of activity; and we do not yet ſee where the labour can be, in this [5] country, ſufficient to maintain its inha⯑bitants. The Mooriſh character may be ſomewhat changed and degenerated ſince the times they flouriſhed in Spain. The iron hand of tyranny has helped to render them ſtill more ſelfiſh and malevolent; and what is worſe for ſociety, helpleſs and in⯑dolent beings. Such are the ſubjects that deſpotiſm muſt ever expect to form! Yet we are told they love money to exceſs. Human nature is full of inconſiſtencies. This love of money ſeems to be a plant that will grow any where, and thrive beſt where it ſeems to have the leaſt nouriſh⯑ment.

But to go on with our journey. After wrangling for three days with a ſtupid and brutiſh governor of Tetuan (who is a ſhoe⯑maker and a private ſoldier) concerning horſes and mules, though he had the Em⯑peror's orders to furniſh us; then nearly three days journey, chequered with various diſputes and accidents, now of ſmall import⯑ance, through a variable country, with ſome fine woody hills, we arrived at this place.

[6]We were carried directly to the Prince, ſaluted with great guns, and attended by a rabble of what they call ſoldiers. The Prince's impatience to ſee us, his eager manner of receiving and ſurveying us with an apparent pleaſure and openneſs of countenance, gave ſome hopes of a natural curioſity and warmth of heart; but we have already had time to be undeceived; for momentary exertions ſoon give way to habitual ſloth or luxury. Such is too often the unhappy fate of high birth, and is here perhaps inevitable.

Our preſents were likewiſe produced. My celeſtial globe attracted moſt of his attention, and I was in hopes he un⯑derſtood ſomething of it, having read and heard of their being formerly addicted to aſtronomy and mathematics; but was ſoon undeceived by his queſtions and obſerva⯑tions, though artfully contrived to concea [...] his ignorance; but ignorance can ſeldom be concealed. He ſaid, that he had once a maſter who knew much more than al [...] the Chriſtians.

[7]We were ſent for next day, and con⯑ducted out of town, where ſtood ſeven mortars, of three different, but unknown, dimenſions. Throwing ſhells is of late the great paſſion of this royal family. He ſaid he had heard of the great ſkill of us Chriſtians, and of mine in particular, in artillery, and deſired we would throw a few ſhells. A barrel of Dutch powder ſtood ready opened, and we were deſired to fire at a pole that ſtood at ſome diſtance. We endeavoured to remonſtrate on the neceſſity of knowing that diſtance, the dimenſions, weights; to have the inſtruments which we had brought on purpoſe, and to ſhew his Highneſs their uſe: but all in vain. We were deſired to fire, and to make haſte. My intention was to be politely obſtinate, but I ſuffered myſelf to be perſuaded on political conſiderations, which I have ſince found to be wrong, and that my firſt ideas were the beſt. We contrived, however, to walk to the pole, to ſee how near his Highneſs had thrown a ſhell. We privately counted our paces, and gueſſed the dimenſions of the pieces by the help of our fingers, and the powder [8] by ſight, feeling, &c.; and though the weights, powder, dimenſions, were all ſo imperfectly known, we chanced to come pretty near the mark, which ſurpriſed, but did not pleaſe him; and I have ſince found, that nobody muſt pretend to fire ſo well as the Prince.

We continue to be ſent for frequently, and treated variably, juſt as the fits of royal caprice chance to operate. Sometimes with compliments, and at others with neglect, or worſe; ſometimes with their greateſt honours, viz. having ſome bad powder fired in our faces by what they call their troops, chiefly horſe; and ſometimes by being turned out of court, head and ſhoulders, in the moſt rude and violent manner.

Their troops, if they now deſerve that name, might be made tolerable light horſe, under good officers; and the breed of horſes, now rather ſmall, but of a good race, might eaſily be improved in this country.

[9]Their arms, though not uniform, they ſay, are moſtly made in the country, which I do not believe, as there is no appearance of art, materials, or even tools, ſufficient for that purpoſe.

But, leſt I ſhould forget; I cannot help mentioning my amazement, that you ſhould ſo long continue to employ only Genoeſe, and other foreign ſeamen, for the naviga⯑tion of your garriſon, whom you are breeding up for your enemies, when you could be ſo eaſily and better ſerved by your own. Half your preſent number, if Eng⯑liſh veſſels and ſeamen, would ſerve you better. Some ſay that the Engliſh could not live where theſe do, but I think it is not true. Hundreds round many of your coaſts would be glad of the employ. That the Engliſh would be ſaucier, as ſome fancy, I likewiſe doubt.

I dare ſay ſome of our friends will envy me the happineſs and knowledge to be acquired by this improving journey and embaſſy, by ſo intimate an acquaintance [10] with this poliſhed and enlightened nation, and with ſuch accompliſhed princes. I have enquired, and find ſome reaſon to be⯑lieve, that my royal pupil underſtands ſomething of addition, but that multipli⯑cation and diviſion are beyond his reach or application; and it is thought he can read his own language. But he has ſtrong notions, which he cannot con⯑ceal, of conquering, ſome time or other, all, or at leaſt half the Chriſtians. You may from thence form ſome notion of his education, judgment, and ideas. I do not yet foreſee how I ſhall come off with this part of my embaſſy. You may eaſily per⯑ceive that I ſhall not be able to teach them much.

What this Emperor means, is not al⯑ways eaſy to gueſs; but at preſent it is not very difficult. The quantity of military ſtores, of cannon, mortars, howitzers, ſhells (all moſtly Dutch, and hence not much to be depended on), which he is collecting, is almoſt incredible, after ſeeing his country ſo poor, ignorant, and miſerable. But [11] there is a total want of all the other ſmall ſtores neceſſary to an artillery of any ſervice; and indeed of numerous other things, and trades proportioned to theſe. I ſee no reaſon why you ſhould ſcruple to help them out, as far as they can be helped, which is not far; and you need be under no fear of improving them too much. They, or at leaſt you, ought to know that it is impoſſible.

LETTER. II. Differences between European and African Manners. — Population. — Arts. — Induſ⯑try.—Their Inferiority.

THE vaſt difference in every thing on paſſing thoſe ſtraits, is, perhaps, greater than in any equal diſtance on our globe, and muſt ſo ſtrike an European, that he knows not where to begin to give any account of men or things here.

We are aſtoniſhed at the total difference in manners, cuſtoms, habits, opinions, dreſs, food, arts, tools, &c. at the different and oppoſite ways of doing almoſt every thing; as if the people on theſe oppoſite ſhores meant in every thing to ſhew their averſion to each other. But I ſhall not attempt de⯑ſcriptions, which are almoſt always inade⯑quate. What I may think practicable to give, you may probably get, if I have time.

[13]Something extraordinary muſt have driven theſe poor people into towns, to live in a moſt ſhockingly filthy manner, for they are horrid ſtinking places; and it is rather ſurpriſing that the plague, or ſome other diſorders, do not viſit them oftener.

If their towns, Morocco, Mequinez, Fez, Tetuan, ſo far aſunder, were cut out into villages, and ſpread over the face of the country, they might be of ſome ſervice; but now, can only be of uſe to the deſtructive endeavours of deſpotiſm, and help the Emperor to impoveriſh and depopulate the country a little faſter.

This country, as far as we have gone, is well varied in hill and vale, and tolerably wooded, though not ſo well watered, and a little too mountainous; it is capable of every kind of cultivation, and of fences, planting, roads, all which it is now almoſt without. It ſeems peopled to about one-fifth of what it might eaſily be made to maintain, and the labour of the preſent in⯑habitants is not probably above one-fourth [14] of what it might be with more ſkill and in⯑duſtry; ſo that it is capable of 4x5=20 times its preſent wealth, ſtrength, and importance, by encouraging agriculture only.

Theſe people (eſpecially thoſe of the plains, for the mountaineers are more in⯑duſtrious) are at preſent but little beyond the ſhepherd ſtate of ſociety; their flocks con⯑ſtitute their chief wealth; attending theſe is always a lazy profeſſion, and unfavour⯑able to population. The arts and trades neceſſary for ſuch a ſtate are all here, though in a kind of perpetual infancy; not in a ſtate of progreſſion, as in Europe, but the ſame for, I ſuppoſe, theſe thouſand years paſt. The plough, the mill, the loom, their leſſer tools and methods of working, are for ever the ſame—ſimple, trifling, ſlow, and imperfect, in the true Eaſtern ſtile—no proper diviſion of labour. They have the ſame awkward and unſkil⯑ful methods of loading their cattle and car⯑rying their burdens that were probably uſed by Mahomet himſelf, and even by Abra⯑ham. [15] The ſame neceſſaries and ways of life, and kinds of luxury, for ever.

We ſee Eaſtern manners here, without going to the Eaſt. Every idea of change or improvement is excluded by their law, and by ignorance of their wants. Through the avarice of this emperor, indeed, they may acquire new wants and luxuries, and diminiſh their national ſtrength and ſecu⯑rity by means of commerce. An open communication with European nations may, in time, bring them acquainted with our wants, our goods, conveniencies, and luxu⯑ries, as they were while in Spain, when they even went beyond their neighbours in arts and luxury. When a nation comes to have ſea-ports, ſhips, magazines, foreign merchants, peace and commerce admitted, and hence property and fixed habitations, theſe habits muſt extend by degrees into the country. The removal is not then ſo eaſy from an approaching enemy. They neceſſarily become more connected and attached to their property and improved habitations, and dependent on foreign arts [16] and nations. Had they continued attached to the original ſpirit of their conſtitution, to their poverty and itinerant ſtate, with all their enmity and abhorrence of Chriſtians, they would have remained either independent and invincible, or not worth the conqueſt.

It is, to us, truly amazing, that all thoſe ſtupid Eaſtern governments, founded in deſpotiſm and on principles of unchange⯑ableneſs, of ſtability in ignorance, ſhould have ſucceeded ſo generally in fixing man⯑kind to a ſtate of barbariſm, or ſo little above it, for ever; in ſpite of the natural diſpoſitions of men to improve and to better their condition; in ſpite of that progreſs which we ſuppoſe equally natural to the ſpecies and to the individual, notwithſtand⯑ing the obvious utility of intercourſe and induſtry to all, by an exchange of produc⯑tions and knowledge.

You know that the ſame code, the Koran and its comments, called the law, includes their religion, laws, manners, cuſtoms; and that the mode of eating their dinners, or [17] waſhing their hands, is as ſacredly fixed as that of worſhipping their God, and more ſo than the practice of any virtue, and ſeem to be conſidered by all as more eſſen⯑tial. This blending of law and religion together may be the beſt way to form a laſting government and people. This reli⯑gious veneration for certain modes and actions, muſt doubtleſs tend to perpetuate them, and keep the people for ever the ſame; and their code may have more in⯑fluence on their minds and manners, than ours upon us.

In modern times, perhaps ever ſince the days of ancient Rome, pray have not our education and religious eſtabliſhments had too great a tendency to inſpire us with in⯑veterate prejudices againſt our fellow-crea⯑tures, for differing with us in certain opi⯑nions? You know the inveteracy of your neighbours on that ſide againſt hereſy and Mahometiſm. Here the deteſtation and abhorrence of all other ſects is ſtrong be⯑yond conception, and we ſhould think [18] ſcarcely to be humaniſed by all the power⯑ful influence of arts and civilization.

However, we know that one great and liberal mind can often create, and lead many others; and that theſe people have had great Princes, who could take liberties with their cuſtoms, and could contrive to interpret their law with great latitude; and that it is poſſible to improve them, al⯑moſt in ſpite of themſelves. We know that ſome of their Princes of Cordova and Granada found means to admit the arts and improvements of every kind, many of which were then, and are now again, ſup⯑poſed to be againſt their law; and if thoſe kingdoms had fortunately continued to ſubſiſt in Europe, the means, and perhaps the only means, would thereby have re⯑mained open, of ſoftening, and gradually reconciling, in ſome degree, the inveteracy of thoſe two violent and oppoſing per⯑ſuaſions of Chriſtianity and Mahometiſm. There were, at laſt, frequent intermarriages even between the Spaniſh and Mahomedan [19] princes. They might, from vicinity, arts, and intercourſe, have been led into mutual forbearance and conceſſions, which, by de⯑grees, might have produced a more com⯑prehenſive ſyſtem of toleration than the world is now likely ſoon to enjoy; and this again might, in time, have mitigated and humaniſed the more rigorous and inimical opinions and political animoſities of all nations, and have brought them nearer to reaſon and each other: means every way preferable to the barbarous inveterate wars, and mutual deſtruction, which theſe two ſects at leaſt, now ſeem doomed, with ſmall intermiſſions, long to carry on againſt one another.

LETTER III. Uncomfortable Situation at Mequinez.

I AM here ſeven days, ſix of them in bed, rather ill, where I now write with diffi⯑culty, in the cell of a half-ruined convent, the beſt lodging to be procured here. One day with the Emperor, which made me worſe. As my cold fit came on, which he perceived, he ordered a fire to be made for me in the open field, where we were at⯑tending to ſome of his experiments. This I did not know at the time; but on ſeeing a large pile of bruſh-wood ſet on fire, and aſking the reaſon, I was told it was for me, and that the Emperor had ordered it on ſeeing me ſhivering with cold. It ſeems they could not explain to him the nature of my diſorder, nor did he know that fevers are often attended with cold fits.

[21]You know I was ſent in a hurry, but ill provided for this campaigning ſort of life. A camp equipage of ſome ſort is here the moſt neceſſary and principal comfort of a man's life, eſpecially when ſo great a part of it muſt be paſſed in following this ambling court, whoſe deſign, if they have any, ſeems to be to let nobody reſt. In⯑deed, in this country, it is better living in camp, with almoſt any ſort of conveniences, than in their towns and houſes.

We have already ſeen a good deal of this miſerable country, viz. the plains, which are in general little cultivated, and ſtill leſs inhabited, and only by a few tent villages, very thinly ſcattered, which are generally moved at different ſeaſons, according to the paſture. Our next camp is to be among the mountains, where I expect more plea⯑ſure.

You know I have already ſtaid beyond the time at firſt intended, and that they ſeldom keep their word. I mention this, [22] chiefly to caution the General againſt their applications for my longer ſtay.

A certain uncouth, inordinate, wild ca⯑price, a want of common civility and hu⯑manity, even in the royal family, and which will probably increaſe as our return ap⯑proaches; and the now ſmall probability of ſucceſs in the chief objects, all contribute to render this buſineſs as diſagreeable as it well can be. I intended to give you ſome more obſervations, but I am cold and fa⯑tigued, as, in order to have light, a hole muſt be opened which admits the wind from the ſnowy mountains juſt in view. Such is the conſtruction of houſes here. Glaſs is almoſt unknown.

LETTER IV. Of the Emperors, the Prince, and the Modes of Living, of Travelling, &c.

I TAKE this opportunity, by C. B., who now leaves me alone in this diſmal court, employed in the agreeable office of dancing attendance from morn to night, and generally without any dinner, on theſe Princes of Barbary, or Barbarian Princes; call them which you pleaſe.

I intended to give you ſome particulars of our journey hither; but now, when paſt, they appear of leſs importance. A journey through a naked, brown, flat country, hardly a tree or a buſh, or any inhabitants, to be ſeen, can afford but little ſcope for obſervation.

Our ſetting off, the firſt morning, ſeemed cheerful, with about 500 active horſe, wild [24] and irregular, ſcampering and firing powder at each other. By this play, however, the Prince killed one young man, but nobody ſtopped even to aſſiſt or take him up.

We encamped every night, but ſadly diſtreſſed for proviſions, and indeed might have ſtarved but for the goodneſs of the Dutch Conſul, who was with the camp. This was the more grievous, becauſe at ſetting out they would not permit us to pro⯑vide ourſelves, inſiſting on the Prince's doing it for us. However, one night, we were awaked by ſome fellows thruſting into our tent ſome large wooden diſhes, ſmoak⯑ing full of ſtewed cuſcus ^*, meat, and onions, as a preſent from the Prince.

Our awkward and tedious method of paſſing rivers, generally by ſwimming, de⯑ſerves not much particular notice. It ap⯑pears that one man who can ſwim well, can conduct a great number of horſes, by tying them together, if the ſtream is not very rapid. They make little floats to carry [25] the baggage, &c. of any thing they can find, of ſkins blown up, tied together, and cover⯑ed with bruſhwood; but ſometimes they can find nothing, for the rivers in thoſe plains do not produce graſs, or any tree or verdant plant, even on their banks.

The Prince frequently aſked me, as we rode along, if we had ſuch fine country for riding. He meant ſo open and naked. Many great men are, perhaps, too ſubject to ſuch ideas —from a William the Con⯑queror, or a King of Perſia, down to a Poliſh Lord or feudal Baron; and they conſider their having room to ride or hunt, as of more importance than the producing food for us all, and can even lay waſte po⯑pulous countries on purpoſe.

The viſible terror of all who approached the Prince, ſeems to give him pleaſure; but would certainly give pain to a humane mind.

I am wearied here with having nothing to do, having tired out my poor interpreters, and then a Jew, whom I had perſuaded to [26] walk with me about the country, and about theſe half-ruined mud walls and dirty fields, called palaces and gardens. Nobody chuſes to walk here, and I may perhaps tire of perſiſting in being ſingular, and may learn to be as habitually idle as any of them; though I cannot learn to ſit bare-legged on the ground upon my heels, with my back againſt a wall, which ſeems the only amuſement here of our courtiers, and of the crowds who attend.

LETTER V. The Dowars.—Domeſtic Employments, and Manners.—Oppreſſion and Inſecurity.

THE few black and dirty tent villages (dowars), the only habitations in theſe extenſive and naked plains, were at firſt objects of great curioſity, but ſoon after of diſguſt, being ſhockingly naſty and diſ⯑agreeable, eſpecially in hot weather. They prefer this roving way of life (governed in ſmall and domeſtic matters by their own ſhieks) to any fixed habitation, where they would be ſtill more tyranniſed over by a Baſhaw, and more ſubject to plunder and all ſorts of oppreſſion.

The firſt we ſaw of theſe dowars hap⯑pened to be cleaner than ordinary, lately pitched on a declivity, though uſually in the plains, for the conveniency of water, and a little cultivation. The inhabitants [28] and we were ſtriking objects to each other. Their dreſs and appearance, the ſcreaming and noiſe of the naked children and dogs that followed and ſurrounded us; the wild, anxious, and expreſſive countenances of ſome of the young females, formed all together a curious ſcene. We were not, on the whole, ill uſed; and we underſtand, that Chriſtians are not now ſo rudely treated among them as they uſed to be, by the children throwing ſtones, accompanied with curſes. They now only ſometimes give us abuſive language, repeating certain phraſes of the Koran.

I think it not neceſſary to tell you much of their occupations in this way of life. They are nearly the ſame as y [...] find in Scripture in the times of Abraham and Jacob, and that ſtill ſubſiſt in ſome parts of Aſia, the domeſtic employment of the wo⯑men being ſtill that of weaving, grinding the corn, cookery, &c. Some of their diſhes are ſavoury, often dreſſed in the ſteam of the pot, which is generally here of copper, but not often tinned. Here, as in [29] Spain, the primitive method of treading out the corn by cattle is ſtill practiſed, inſtead of threſhing. In Europe, the flail has been long in uſe. Perhaps you may now im⯑prove upon that, as well as the other ma⯑chines of huſbandry.

In their towns, where the neceſſary arts and trades are practiſed, their tools, and methods of working, might be deſcribed; but I do not ſee the utility of thoſe matters to us; their ways of weaving, boring, plaining, cutting, baking, tanning, &c. being all different from ours, but much in⯑ferior. Their leather is not now ſo good as formerly, and I believe you already pre⯑pare better of the ſame kind in England.

You know they uſe no knives, forks, ſpoons, chairs, nor tables; thoſe being for⯑bid by their religion. Mahomet, like Ly⯑curgus and moſt of the Eaſtern lawgivers, meant to exclude luxury at the expence of every art and comfort of life, and thus ren⯑der mankind for ever ſtationary. This we ſhould think impoſſible, and not in the [30] nature of man, were it not for the example of China. But we know that even their religion is not ſufficient for that purpoſe, where the ſoil is good, and the government tolerable: deſpotiſm muſt join, and her at⯑tendant poverty, effectually to prevent the improvements and the progreſs of the arts and luxury natural to man.

The camels are very uſeful here, and proper for the long journies through the dry African deſarts. How provident is the Great Author of Nature! They can live a week without water. In ſome parts the inhabitants live entirely on their milk, with a few dates, and wear only their ſkins.

We can eaſily conceive this country to have been once rich and fruitful, as we learn from its imperfect hiſtory, and from that of the Romans. It might eaſily be made to produce food and raiment, &c. in great abundance, by means of a juſt govern⯑ment. But inſecurity and oppreſſion have ſo long prevailed, as to baniſh all ſettled plans of providing; and in theſe fine corn [31] countries, they have often ſuffered frequent ſcarcity. I believe it is only ſince ſome grain has been permitted to be exported, and by the Emperor's laying up ſome ſtore of it himſelf, that thoſe frequent famines have been prevented.

But there ſeems to be very little work go⯑ing on, even in their towns. Sitting, ſmoke⯑ing, and prayers, employ a great deal of their time. Few things ſeem to rouſe them to any voluntary exertions, except their hatred to Chriſtians, which does not yet appear to be ſo much abated as you ſup⯑poſe, only in ſome of their ſea-ports. They ſtill teach many of their children, in towns, to read and write, and exerciſe their memo⯑ries by parts of the Koran. Their methods ſeem to be ſimple and direct, and they might eaſily be carried farther. We know that ſome of them were once ſtudious and learned. I think one ſees in ſome of their youth, ſtill a certain open warmth and frank honeſty of heart; but I believe that gradually declines with years into a ſullen indifference about well-doing, and produces [32] many other vices. Deſpotiſm ſoon gets the better of nature.

With ſuch a government, there can be nothing fixed or certain; and of all its uncertainties, that of the ſucceſſion to the crown is the worſt and moſt deſtructive. It is here neither hereditary nor elective as yet, being generally ſeized by uſurpation through bloodſhed. A civil war commonly attends every ſucceſſion at leaſt. We, who have the happineſs to live in long and well-eſtabliſhed ſocieties, cannot be ſo ſenſible of the great time and number of circum⯑ſtances required to eſtabliſh rules of ſucceſ⯑ſion, or indeed any rule or fixed regulation.

Theſe cherifs, or deſcendants of Mahomet, have a prodigious advantage in that very cir⯑cumſtance, if they knew how to make a pro⯑per uſe of it. There are a number of them ſtill diſperſed in this, and probably in other Mahomedan countries. The preſent reign⯑ing family here is of that race. If it were poſſible to make them travel, and give them any proper education, they might intro⯑duce [33] any improvement, or eſtabliſh any conſtitution of government they pleaſed. But, on the contrary, theſe ſucceſſors of Muley Iſhmael have already nearly de⯑ſtroyed all the good he did, or had begun to do, which was conſiderable, amidſt his miſ⯑chievous cruelties. He had ideas of colonies even more than of conqueſts, and brought great numbers from the ſouth to people his country and recruit his armies. But theſe have already moſtly diſappeared, the country is again deſolate, and the army neglected.

But it can hardly be neceſſary, now-a-days, to point out the numberleſs evils and fatal conſequences of deſpotiſm. If ſome European nations go on declining in that direction, it can hardly be from want of information of its pernicious effects, but with their eyes open; not from ignorance, but weakneſs, or from want of order or conſtitution. But, alas! I fear mankind are not to be written into virtue or reſolution. Perhaps little more can now be done in that [34] way, than to put them frequently in mind of their danger. They might be more ſenſible of it, if they were to come and ſee their brethren here. And I am ſorry to obſerve it is not now ſo much the faſhion as formerly, for our travellers to advance beyond the limits of Europe.

From reading ſome parts of their hiſtory, I believe we rank theſe people too high in the ſcale of ſociety. We fancy ſome veſtiges of their former greatneſs and learning muſt ſtill appear, forgetting the neceſſary velocity of fall in a declining empire, and how ſoon it leaves our ideas behind. But degeneracy will, perhaps, always differ from the ſavage ſtate, and will be weaker, and more abject; and when once ſunk and reduced, there ſeems no poſſibility of getting them up again, but by conquering and coloniſing their country. It is aſtoniſhing how little even the wiſeſt and moſt improved nations learn from each other, and how long they are in learning that little; and the ruder nations ſtill leſs. The higher ſtates of im⯑provement [35] cannot, indeed, impart much of their knowledge to the lower. Our luxuries and improvements ſuit them not. In order to arrive at theſe, they muſt paſs through certain ſteps of a progreſs, and muſt learn to want, and be gradually rouſed to exer⯑tions and induſtry.

LETTER VI. An Audience of the Emperor.—His Family, his Court, Injuſtice, Government, &c.

YOU muſt take the few detached obſer⯑vations that I think proper to give you, as they chance to occur, and excuſe the want of order and connection.

Some circumſtances of our firſt audience may be worth mentioning. His M— was ſeated croſs-legged, on a very plain ſort of platform of rough deal boards, ſuch as are uſed in your ſoldiers barracks, covered only with an ordinary piece of carpet. He affects ſimplicity and diſcourages luxury. On the attendants attempting to take off my ſhoes, as uſual, on going into his preſence, I made ſome reſiſtance; which he perceived, though at ſome diſtance, and with great readineſs ſaved the diſpute, and ſettled the matter, by ſaying, ‘Let him alone,— [37] theſe Chriſtians are ſubject to catch cold without ſhoes.’

The chief ſubject of converſation in this interview, was the great ſuperiority of the Moors over the Chriſtians in every eſſential quality,—addreſſing himſelf to thoſe about him. He ſoon introduced likewiſe his knowing how to raiſe a perpendicular, which he ſcratched on a board with a car⯑penter's compaſſes. This, which compre⯑hends the chief part of his mathematical knowledge, he learned from a ſea captain, once his priſoner; and he generally exhibits it to Chriſtians at their firſt audience. Then ſome converſation about artillery, war, and fortification, he likewiſe artfully managed, ſo as to paſs for very learned with his own people, and to conceal from us his deficiencies, which I was, for once, courtier enough to perceive, and to favour—et je crois qu'il m'en ſut bon grè. Before we parted, he called me "Malem guibir," a great maſter— ‘One of the greateſt among the Chriſtians.’ He added, ‘You hear what he ſays of me.’

[38]His friends, or at leaſt his favourites, are moſtly choſen, I believe, not from any ſolid or uſeful qualities, but chiefly from caprice, though not ſo much as formerly; nor does he change ſo often, nor can there be any great choice of men among his ſubjects. Hitherto, I find the Jew ſecretary the man of moſt knowledge and beſt converſation of any about his court. He is doubtleſs obliged ſometimes to conſider well, and appoint people who can do the buſineſs he wants. The greateſt deſpot is limited in the choice of his men and meaſures by fear, cuſtom, religion, &c.; and he muſt often ſtudy to chuſe with as much precaution and propriety as the moſt limited monarch. Without the aſſiſtance and the numerous advantages of eſtabliſhed forms, the whole muſt depend on his own temporary arts and addreſs, and muſt create him an im⯑menſity of labour impoſſible to be exe⯑cuted.

Now in the habit of being conſtantly ſeen here, I appear to belong to this pa⯑lace; and I have often the honour of being [39] as familiarly ſhoved about by our black courtiers, as any of the reſt of the rabble who form the ring around his M—. His levee is in the open air, only he on horſe⯑back, and I think he generally chuſes the dirtieſt part of the field. There the poor obſequious crowd keep frequently kneeling and kiſſing the dirty ground, and bawling out his praiſes, as he ſpeaks. In that poſture, with their poſteriors cocked up⯑wards, they do not look like human beings, and make a moſt contemptible figure. Our black courtiers, who may be conſidered as the lords in waiting, attend with whips and rods, which they uſe very freely to arrange, or keep people in or out of their places; to aſſemble or drive us away, on the approach of his M—, or of the Princes, according to the royal orders, or caprice of the moment.

So far from making any progreſs in either of the objects of buſineſs for which I came, they both ſeem now entirely for⯑gotten, and cannot be revived. I have pleaded over and over all the reaſons for diſpatch and departure, on the few occa⯑ſions [40] that have offered. What they mean by keeping me, and eſpecially in this place, is not eaſy to gueſs; but there is no appearance of my getting away, until you fall on ſome more effectual method, or aſſiſt me to go on with mine.

The chief employments of this ſtrange mock royal family ſeem to be, quarrels among themſelves, travelling about the kingdom, and extorting money from every body who has any. We have already ſeen ſome cruel inſtances of this mode of robbing by authority, on both Jews and natives. Even Meſſrs. A. and B. the only Engliſh merchants in the country, were the other day ſeized in the brutiſh manner of this court, and carried to confinement, by order of a prince, to extort money from them. This he choſe to do, while I am here; and it is not the only inſtance of his chuſing to ſhew me in what contempt he now holds the Engliſh nation.

In thoſe caſes of extortion, the whole proceſs is compriſed in two words, ſome⯑what [41] like thoſe we uſe to dogs, viz. Seize 'em; and the perſon to be arreſted is pre⯑ſently grappled by a ſet of clumſy fellows, and almoſt ſqueezed to death in the opera⯑tion of being carried to priſon, though he make no reſiſtance.

The ſpirit of deſpotiſm is to let the people have no reſt, and this Emperor has added, that they ſhall have no money. In order to maintain authority in ſuch go⯑vernments, it is perhaps neceſſary to let them frequently feel the power that is over them; for they might forget it, and fancy themſelves free, if they could ſleep a few nights in quiet. It requires the perpetual exertions of the maſter to keep the ſlave awake, and frequent acts of cruelty to maintain reſpect. What a loſs and waſte of powers on all ſides! And, after all, the active principles of hu⯑man nature can hardly be kept alive by ſuch means. The greateſt ambition and activity in the chief, the hopes of plunder, the regulations and employments he is obliged to contrive and to ſuperintend, ſo as [42] to keep his ſubjects from the extremes of ſleep, or of miſchief, may ſometimes pro⯑duce temporary exertions, but never a pro⯑vident and habitual induſtry. Nothing can ſupply the place of natural liberty and ſecurity. Power may command labour, but not genius or abilities. M. Iſhmael uſed to think it neceſſary to cut off innocent people's heads, as he rode along, on pur⯑poſe to ſtrike terror.

There is now much leſs cruelty here; but then there is more avarice, which ſeems full as deſtructive. The boys and mob begin to leave off inſulting ſtrangers. Com⯑merce is invited hither, by long peace, though ſhe does not yet ſeem willing to come; and I doubt much if the country, though a fine ſoil, can improve or be recovered under ſuch a prince and government, though ſo much better than any they have had for a long time paſt.

There muſt be a great reſemblance be⯑tween the rude nations of all ages and countries. Theſe ſeem to be very nearly [43] the ſame ſort of princes and people that Xenophon met with in the Eaſt, and about Byzantium; and are very like to nations on different and oppoſite ſides of the globe, who are near to the ſame degree of civiliza⯑tion. As we improve, we depart from that reſemblance; and there is probably ſome dif⯑ference between nations who are riſing, and thoſe that decline, though near the ſame degrees of ignorance.

LETTER VII. Diſappointed in the Hopes of Diſmiſſion.— Royal Caprices, Indolence, Unhappineſs Avarice.—Deſpotiſm.

IN hopes of being able to acquaint yo [...] of my departure, I have deferred writ⯑ing. The Emperor promiſed me I ſhould go in four days, holding up his four fingers but 'tis now above twenty ſince then.

Your General's letters, and thoſe to Tetuan, all came hither. After waiting a week, I found they were ſtill in the tranſla⯑tor's hands, and would not be mentioned, nor explained, till his M— ſhould aſk for them; which may never happen. I find ſeveral ſuch letters are thus ſunk, or pretended to be loſt, or forgotten; and ſometimes by the artifice of our Jew ſecretary of ſtate, Mr. Sombel.—A-propos, he complains griev⯑ouſly of our neglecting him of late. The [45] French and Spaniards pay him well, though he is obliged to ſhare with his maſter.

This court is equal to any other what⯑ever in artifice or cunning, and his M— as great an adept in the arts of diſſimula⯑tion; and, though it is generally ſo coarſe, ſo [...]ill covered, as to deceive hardly any body, yet all are forced to pretend to be deceived.

The effects of your letters being all againſt us, I have ſince tried all methods to get one of my own preſented and ex⯑plained to his M—; and at length per⯑ſuaded Sombel (with ſome promiſes) to ſtand in the way, with it in his hand, as the Emperor rode paſt, in hopes of his aſking concerning it, which ſometimes ſuc⯑ceeds, by watching his humour. It ſuc⯑ceeded in this caſe. It was haſtily explained. He ordered an anſwer as he rode off, grant⯑ing me the priſoners, Captain Hayes and his people, and almoſt all that I wanted; and I was congratulated by the whole court on being almoſt as good as diſpatched, as it was thought. We went home rejoicing, [46] and ordered a better ſupper than ordinar [...] I have had the maintaining of theſe po [...] people for ſome time, and have found very difficult, and often impoſſible, to g [...] their very ſmall allowance from the Jew who generally have all the priſoners a [...] ambaſſadors quartered on them, beſid [...] many other heavy taxes, forced loans, & But, alas! the vanity of human hopes!— ours were all blaſted in a few days. Cap⯑tain H. and moſt of the priſoners we [...] taken from me, and ſent to work wi [...] other ſlaves, and myſelf told, that I ſhou [...] be diſpatched when the Emperor would [...] at leiſure.

Though he is remarkably wavering an [...] irreſolute, yet this ſudden change is owing I believe, to other cauſes:—either to ſo [...] of your laſt letters, or to ſome of your Je [...] friends in your own garriſon, who make merit here of informing him of all [...] wiſhes to know concerning you.

He has learned that he is ſoon to ha [...] another ambaſſador from you, and he wi [...] [47] of courſe, keep theſe priſoners for a freſh bargain; and they will probably coſt you dear. Why you do not chuſe to have them for little or nothing, viz. for my ſervices here, is to me, as yet, incomprehenſible.

I find that this poor Emperor ſuffers much from low ſpirits and bad humour, and doſes away moſt of his time in ſullen in⯑dolence; or with his taylors, Jews, or car⯑penters, overſeeing the mending of doors and windows, and old rooms, with old boards, &c. while he has the buſineſs of thouſands on his hands, careleſs about the numbers who are waiting and ſuffering from his neglect; like too many other great men, who undertake more than they are able or willing to execute. Fearful and jealous even of his own creatures and ſons; timidly cautious of delegating the ſmalleſt degree of power, he has adopted the weak and impracticable ſyſtem of doing every act of authority himſelf, dictating in the mi⯑nutiae of every man's office throughout the kingdom; and endeavouring to render every one, to whom he is forced to truſt [48] ſome authority, as contemptible as poſſible, by which he often defeats his own views. They become his enemies:—he can have no friends. As he cannot be every where, he is perpetually ſending for his alcaids, and other magiſtrates of towns and diſtricts. Thoſe he ſeems to wiſh to be conſidered only as a kind of meſſengers, whom he ſends to fleece the people, and bring all to him.

If any man, by chance or artifice, eſcape theſe fleecers, and is ſuſpected of having money, he is ſent for by the Emperor, impriſoned, and tortured, till he diſcovers it; which he does only by degrees, a little at a time. It is ſurpriſing to ſee how much ſome of them will bear before they diſcover. Some have been known to die under the tortures, rather than diſcloſe their hidden treaſures.

A blind and rapacious avarice ſeems here the univerſal and only ruling paſſion. How⯑ever ſtrange, this paſſion for money appears to prevail moſt where there is the leaſt ſecurity, and the feweſt pleaſures to be pur⯑chaſed. [49] Moſt of thoſe wretches, on being releaſed, kiſs the ground, bleſs his M—, and return to get more money, knowing they may again be treated in the ſame way.

Thoſe who diſcover the largeſt treaſures, have the beſt chance of being employed in this honourable magiſtracy, to ſerve as his M—'s blood-ſuckers, where they may moſt probably be again tortured and robbed, du part le roy.

His M—'s talents and information in this buſineſs, of extortion and robbery are truly aſtoniſhing, eſpecially in a monarch, and one of a character ſo indolent, capri⯑cious and etourdi, as he appears to be.—His undertaking the buſineſs that ſhould be divided among hundreds, and yet to which he does not give one-twentieth part of his time, is all according to the blind nature of deſpotiſm, which believes itſelf capable of every thing, and is, in fact, capable of nothing that is right or ſyſtematic.

[50]This liſtleſs and uneaſy languor that de⯑vours him, is likewiſe perhaps one of the neceſſary conſequences of his unlimited power. Nor does this power increaſe his ſecurity, and certainly not his happineſs, but the contrary; for we find the hiſtory of this, and of all ſuch empires, to be full of ſudden and bloody revolutions; and the fate of human nature is happily ſuch, that we muſt participate largely of the happineſs or miſery we confer. Such are the diſappoint⯑ments with which nature ſeems inevitably to puniſh this inſatiable paſſion, the love of power. We muſt be aſtoniſhed to find it ſo ſeldom inclined to cure itſelf, or to learn from experience; and equally ſurpriſed to find ſociety exiſting ſo long under its uncontrolled influence and caprices. In⯑deed this can hardly be called a ſtate of ſociety, but rather of warfare.

Fear is perhaps the moſt efficacious of the human paſſions; but, to govern us by that alone, is injurious to our nature, and muſt curtail or deſtroy our beſt powers. The love of power, of riches, in ſhort the hu⯑man [51] paſſions, ought all to be either regu⯑lated, or repreſſed; ſuch is the intent and tendency of ſociety. Let legiſlatures then endeavour to cultivate the benevolent paſ⯑ſions in our nature—the ſelfiſh will always be ſtrong enough. Succeſs in this, will be the beſt criterion of government. But cer⯑tain human paſſions and defects, here and elſewhere, have got perhaps too far a-head ever to be overtaken by any remedy:—al⯑ready, over far the greateſt part of the world, tyranny and ſuperſtition, with ig⯑norance their offspring, ſeem to have joined in a league againſt the happineſs of the human race, and they may long ſucceed in the object of their alliance. Their empire, once eſtabliſhed, ſeems almoſt for ever to exclude the hopes of relief. None of the bloody revolutions of deſpotiſm prove to be any remedy; only the exchange of one tyrant for another.

LETTER VIII. Of the Emperor.—The Inhabitants of the Plains and the Mountains, and ancient Arabian Race.—Importance of National Intercourſe.

IN the few converſations we have had, I have ſometimes attempted to turn the attention of his M— to objects of utility: but in vain. Greatneſs ſpoils men for con⯑verſation, as well as for many other things. Accuſtomed to take the lead in every thing, they cannot follow when it becomes neceſ⯑ſary. They gradually become ſo ſore and faſtidious, that they can hardly admit any ſubject into diſcourſe, but what they intro⯑duce themſelves. Beſides, his habitual and unneceſſary cunning, jealouſy, and vanity; his ignorant and timid interpreters, render it almoſt impoſſible to explain any thing, or to talk common ſenſe to him for any time. He ſeldom converſes with much attention on any ſubject, except where money is ſome way concerned.

[53] Fear and avarice, which are nearly con⯑nected, are his ruling paſſions, and may generally ſerve as a key to his actions and deſigns. By theſe, you may both under⯑ſtand and govern him.

But with all this, he is a juſt, good, and humane character, for this country. With all the habits of tyranny, and of a bad education, he, nevertheleſs, does not, like many of his predeceſſors, wantonly trangreſs the natural rules of juſtice, only where his pecuniary intereſt is concerned, which is, to be ſure, much too often for the good of his country, or of his people. He knows the country well, and moſt individuals who are at all above the common ſlave. He would make a good lieutenant de police— and admit of no robbers but himſelf. And, indeed, were it not for his own conſtant attention, his rapacity and injuſtice would be imitated throughout his dominions.

I do not find that he, like his predeceſ⯑ſors, practiſes the horrid cuſtom of ſelling the power to torture and plunder any one ſuſpected of being rich. He now reſerves [54] that power for himſelf, and ſeldom neglects long to uſe it, though ſometimes with un⯑uſual lenity, he accepts a compoſition as a purchaſe of his forbearance. And the ge⯑nerality of thoſe robberies he executes on ſome pretext of right or juſtice. Happily even tyrants muſt often ſacrifice, at leaſt appearances, at the ſhrine of juſtice. You muſt excuſe haſte, and hence my returning often to the ſame ſubject.

One ſees the character of a people only by glimpſes now and then, and which you muſt take as occaſions chance to ſhine. Theſe people, as troops, with all their indolence, have great fire at times, a momentary kind of courage, rage, or enthuſiaſm:—et alors (a Frenchman told me) ils ſe font tuer d' [...]ſſez bonne grace. They are temperate, and even abſtemious; often penetrating and ſagacious; but then they carry it too far, to cunning, duplicity, deceit. They have great pride and hauteur; but not that which reſtrains them from meanneſs and fraud.

The Moors of the plains, and the Bre⯑bers, and other claſſes of the mountains, [55] are obviouſly different races of people. The many revolutions which theſe northern parts of Africa have undergone, may have repeatedly deſtroyed all the traces and cha⯑racter of the original inhabitants; but theſe would perhaps again appear, if left to them⯑ſelves: in ſhort, the general indigenous in⯑habitant of all this continent was probably the negro; and the nature of the country may be ſuch, if left to itſelf, as to turn the preſent different races all to negroes again in the courſe of time. But as the moun⯑tains here, as elſewhere, have not been ſo much over-run by enemies as the plains, it is among thoſe firſt we muſt look for the oldeſt inhabitants. They are obviouſly a different race from thoſe of the plains:— they are generally thin, light, active, and rather fair; and thoſe of the towns and plains, fatter, heavier, and more of a copper coloured and mixed breed.

I ſuſpect there are but few of the ancient Arabian race now remaining in Africa, or they are much degenerated. I have heard there are ſtill ſome few diſtinct tribes or [56] families of them in ſome of the internal parts behind the Algerine dominions; a more moral and elegant, a proud, but ſtill a paſtoral people. Here, poverty and oppreſ⯑ſion have long ſince cancelled almoſt every diſtinction of character, as well as of rank. The dread and anxiety of perpetual danger hanging over their heads, may be ſaid to ſuſpend all character, and ſtifle what they would have been under other circumſtances. They are ſagacious, yet ignorant; rapacious, yet indolent; ſometimes active, though not ſtrong, with a rooted and habitual enmity towards all other nations, in proportion, as uſual, to their own ignorance and ſuperſti⯑tion; but the Jews and Chriſtians have long been the moſt immediate objects of their hatred and contempt.

Vices happily counteract each other in this world. Avarice begins to make them more tolerant here, at leaſt in their ſea-port towns. The frequent preſents and the commerce of the Chriſtians have in ſome meaſure fixed their regard and attention; and their hopes of making ſomething of us, procures us ſome temporary civilities.

[57]On mutual control and aſſiſtance, on action and counteraction, depends the whole ſyſtem of nature, phyſical and moral. It is certainly right that there be a conſtant intercourſe between different countries and climates. All attempts to exclude each other, have proved deſtructive to nations. The fineſt countries ſeem to require the moſt frequent ſupplies of people, either as coloniſts or conquerors. And the world ſeems to be divided for men, as for cattle, into breeding and fattening countries; and the latter muſt be frequently ſupplied from the former. The fineſt plains and climates ſerve at once to fatten, ſpoil, and enervate their inhabitants, and to invite others from the diſtant mountains to conqueſt or coloni⯑zation.

I am in doubt about ſome of their cuſtoms, ceremonies, dreſs, &c. if worth mention⯑ing. The Highland plaid, and the Mooriſh hayk, are perhaps the ſame as the Roman ioga, and they probably had it from other older nations.

LETTER IX. Difficulties of any Change or Progreſs here. —Negligence, &c.

IT is almoſt impoſſible for any perſon or nation, were they ever ſo willing, to be of the ſervice you mention, to this Prince, or to his country. Your good general need not fear our opening their eyes too much; they are determined, and uſe means quite ſufficient to keep them ſhut.

The reign of ignorance poſſeſſes in itſelf the moſt powerful principles of ſelf-preſer⯑vation, and is perhaps the moſt durable of all empires. Here no man, except the Prince, can ever be of conſequence enough to introduce any change or improvement; and all changes are againſt their cuſtoms, law, or religion, which they do not diſtin⯑guiſh, and which likewiſe prohibits the [59] reigning family from going to ſea, ſo that they can hardly ever travel or acquire knowledge.

From the neceſſary connection of the arts, were they to attempt any one branch, it muſt ſtop at a certain point of the progreſs for want of others. For example, they may learn to throw ſhells tolerably well, with much practice; but they cannot get at the theory, nor half the trades and learning neceſſary towards forming and ſupporting an artillery. So that ſhells, from being, even with us, perhaps the leaſt effectual, and certainly the moſt expenſive, of all the machines of war, become, in their hands, almoſt uſeleſs and of no effect. And if they think to take any place by ſuch bombarding as theirs muſt be, they will find themſelves egregiouſly diſappointed, or it muſt be very badly defended. Any other art, as fortifi⯑cation, legiſlation, manufacture, &c. would ſhare the ſame fate here, with artillery, if attempted.

Any ſcruples or difficulties in us, of teach⯑ing them up to the point of which they are [60] capable, would be vain and futile. We might as well attempt to keep them from the ſun or air, as from the knowledge and progreſs to which neceſſity, and their ſitua⯑tion, will naturally carry them. It is no [...] by their ignorance that they can be kep [...] dependent upon us. But it has been from our neglecting to watch this Emperor's views the changes of times and circumſtances, tha [...] has loſt us his friendſhip and his dependenc [...] on us; while the Dutch, Genoeſe, Danes Turks, and even Spaniards, now make [...] merit of aſſiſting him in all he wants.

I am pleaſed to perceive, that you begi [...] to ſee the affairs of this country in a ne [...] light. I hope ſuch knowledge will exten [...] to other countries, and to higher offices The number of diſagreeable circumſtances and the patience required in this court an [...] country for Europeans, are far beyond wha [...] you can there conceive; and how ſo man of us come hither, is beyond my concep⯑tion to account for.

All methods of getting away havin [...] failed, I am now in actual treaty about [61] bribe to get a letter delivered, to ſolicit that favour. And all I aſk, beſides the pri⯑ſoners, is to let me go; and as he ſtills in⯑ſiſts on my aſking ſomething, I have men⯑tioned a horſe; being the uſual preſent here, and ſuch as I can accept.

Many others are here in a ſimilar ſitua⯑tion, if that could be any conſolation. Some waiting for months, and years; ſome having come in full expectation of promiſed payments, or favours, and are at length reduced to the neceſſity of including them all in that one, of being permitted to go. Such are the methods, it is ſuſpected, that he purpoſely adopts, of paying the ſervices even of ſtrangers and Europeans. You may conſider how well he is likely to be ſerved.

As the meſſenger goes only to-morrow, I ſit down again to fill up your paper. To-day entirely at the palace, as uſual, ſtarving with hunger and cold, for we have a little froſt; but without ſeeing his M—, though ſent for by his orders: but we have [62] waited, and lounged, and received ſeveral of his contradictory meſſages, as uſual too; and have been witneſſes of more to others. Theſe things uſed at firſt to teaze, but now help to amuſe me. But the beſt meſſage of all (if not contradicted to-morrow) was the laſt, viz. that I ſhall have the Tetuan Chriſtians, of which he makes a prodigious favour, and that I ſhall go in a few days.

LETTER X. Of the Prince, and Emperor.—Peculiarities.

WE have explained your letters to the Prince. That part which condemns the conſul, gave him great pleaſure, and good humour. He laughed heartily as he ſat employed in taking to pieces, and ſpoil⯑ing a very good London-made clock, a new Spaniſh preſent, which was probably brought there that I might ſee and judge of their friendſhip with Spain. I took the opportunity of aſking for the ſeamen, and he readily promiſed me his intereſt; then mounted and rode to his father, within a few doors, and the clock may have eſcaped for the preſent.

We have, to-day, had ſome dinner at the palace, an extraordinary thing in theſe times, viz. ſome almonds and raiſins, and, with difficulty, ſome water.

[64]Our hopes conſiſt in the letters having the ſame effect on the father as on the ſon, which I doubt. With him, hardly any one here has perſonally any other than that ſhort-lived influence which his preſent paſſions or neceſſities ſometimes give to thoſe who happen to be near him at the time. I believe he is too fearful and cauti⯑ous to have a friend, or any one with whom he may regularly conſult. Though at once both artful and aſſuming, and taking the credit of every meaſure as his own, though borrowed, he carefully avoids the appearance of being at a loſs, or in any doubt. Yet he is not unfrequently ſeen to be greatly perplexed; and is then very ſoli⯑citous for the opinions of thoſe who chance to be near him, though theſe are generally dictated by fear, ignorance, or ſelf-intereſt. Much of his conduct, and of his public meaſures, favour of ſuch a ſource. This ſon is, however, to-day in favour; which was not the caſe laſt week.

Their actions and opinions are full of uncertainty, paradox, change, contradiction, [65] and caprice. But the wild, flighty, variable humour, and true Barbarian character, is much ſtronger and more conſpicuous in the ſons than in the father; for he affects wiſ⯑dom, and ſets up for the great head-piece of his family and race: and by means of a little caution, diſcretion, cunning, and often indeed good ſenſe, he paſſes here for a So⯑lomon, for profound and deeply learned, but not for brave. The Barbarian idea of courage is inſeparable from that of cruelty; and he is humane to a degree almoſt un⯑known in his family or in this government; and though his humanity is not quite what we ſhould dignify by that name, nor ſo powerful as to withſtand his avarice when they come in competition, yet it often ap⯑pears in public, and is the means of ſaving many lives. He wiſhes to treat ſmaller crimes with leſs ſeverity than has been cuſtomary here, and for this he is unpopu⯑lar, and held in ſome degree of ſecret con⯑tempt by his more ſavage ſons, and by the remains of the army, who ſay, ‘There ſhould be a ſtream of blood always flow⯑ing from the throne, in order to govern [66] this country properly.’ And as one of the inſtances of his weakneſs, this monarch has been known to be cruel, againſt his nature, in order to ſupport this character of bravery, and to gain the opinion of ſuch people as theſe. You know that, par de⯑voir, he is the only executioner in his kingdom; and dexterity in cutting off heads, is among the firſt of royal accom⯑pliſhments here, and is frequently the ſub⯑ject of common converſation among the people. And with ſuch a people as theſe now are, it is perhaps the beſt method of preſerving that neceſſary terror and reſpect to himſelf and the laws.

All his reſolutions, however extravagant, are ſuppoſed to be the immediate inſpi⯑rations of God. He judges and adminiſters juſtice in a very haſty and ſummary way, at his levee. His ſentences, being ſudden inſpirations, often before the cauſe is half heard—hands, heads, are cut off; the whole proceſs and execution, often the work only of a few minutes. But to his great honour, there are much fewer execu⯑tions [67] than formerly, as in Muley Iſhmael's time, though it is matter of regret to many of his ſoldiers and ſubjects.

It is probably from the Eaſt, that we too had once got the abſurd and terrific idea of kings being God's vicegerents here on earth; an idea which our European princes do not ſeem, in theſe days, ſo fond of pro⯑pagating; as, fortunately for ſociety, it has become more neceſſary and uſeful to be be⯑loved, than to be feared, by their ſubjects.

LETTER XI. More Anecdotes of the Emperor.—Bad Ac⯑commodations, and State of the Arts.

THIS Emperor is rather in his element at theſe levees, or audiences. Cunning and ſenſible, he is no bad courtier, though a coarſe one, and ſays ſome artful and well-ſtudied things, which often have the effects he intends by them; and though we are not all deceived, all are obliged to praiſe his wiſdom, and pretend to admire and believe—as is not unuſual, I believe, at other courts.

He has there lately declared, that he means to make war on the Dutch, if their embaſſy (that is, their preſents) does not ſoon appear; and it is ſaid, that nothing under ten thou⯑ſand ducats will anſwer the purpoſe, or prevent the war. In ſhort, though not paid [69] annually, it is a tribute; and we are all tributary to him.

He ſays, he will grant no corn to the Chriſtians this year till late in May. The Chriſtians are quite out of favour of late. He hardly now ſees any of thoſe with whom he uſed to be quite intimate.

The cry of war with any Chriſtian power is always popular here; and he deals out, at his levees, a little hopes of it now and then, for popularity, and other various pur⯑poſes.

You ſee the promiſes of the tenth are for⯑gotten again, as uſual, here. One of the Tetuan Chriſtians is taken from me, be⯑cauſe Sombel has had a hint of ſome hopes of a ranſom, which he muſt ſhare with his maſter. The next that ſeems to require being aſked for, is our Vice Conſul of Mo⯑godore.

I write moſt of this on my knee, a la Moriſco. We pitch our tent in our room, [70] and the tent being none of the beſt, you know, keeps out only part of the rain which comes through the roof of the houſe. I cannot manage here to keep my feet dry for a whole day, nor to get rid of a ſecond cold, though not ſo feveriſh as the firſt. We have changed from the convent, but for the worſe, if poſſible. It is hard to ſay which are the moſt uncomfortable kind of animals for landlords and companions, Spaniſh friars, Moors, or Jews.

We ſhall be tolerably good Moors in time, as to indolence and ſobriety; and ſhall have again to learn to drink wine, though not bad water. Slavery itſelf would probably require only a certain time to re⯑concile and debaſe the mind.

The pride of poliſhed times is, perhaps, too apt to conſider the affairs of barbarous nations as unworthy of notice, and barren of inſtruction. But I think a mind that is warm in the purſuits and inveſtigation of human nature, will find her intereſting in every ſhape. Though I muſt confeſs, I am [71] too often out of humour with theſe people, when teazed and fatigued with many diſ⯑agreeable circumſtances. I believe few are ever inclined to repeat their viſitation, but ſuch as are obliged to it. Yet when the troubles are over, and diminiſhed by diſ⯑tance and time, and only the agreeable recol⯑lections remain, as uſual with moſt journies, I may then perhaps experience a change of ſentiment, and may have no material ob⯑jections to repeat this journey hither in the manner you mention.

Man is probably worth conſidering in every ſtate and condition of ſociety; and among people, though ſo far behind us, ſome arts and works may be obſerved that at leaſt ſeem worthy our attention, as objects of curioſity, if not of utility. But uſe⯑ful hints may be picked up in almoſt any country, eſpecially by military men, who ſhould know the ſimple and ready ways of doing every thing.

The ingenuity, as well as the ſtupidity of theſe people, while both differ ſo widely [72] from our own, become objects of curioſity to us. They will frequently perform great things with very ſmall means; and, with the moſt trifling and ſimple tools, will exe⯑cute works where we ſhould require a com⯑plicated apparatus. They can erect great and extenſive buildings without ſtone, brick, or mortar, and with ſcarcely any timber, viz. of dirt and mud, by means of wooden caſes or frames, removable when the fabric is dry. But you ſee there ſome of the taby walls, for which they were formerly ſo fa⯑mous; and they had then very ſtrong mix⯑tures for mortar and plaſter—arts which are now almoſt loſt here.

But they will make a water-mill out of timber that we ſhould think inſufficient for a ſtool. They will form a ſort of bridge over a river with ſpart or baſs ropes ſtretch⯑ed acroſs it, without any purchaſe but the main force of a number of hands; and though it drags in the water, it will carry ſome people and baggage, while the reſt ſwim the horſes.

[73]And they make floats that carry over baggage, in a country where there is nei⯑ther ſtick, ſtone, nor buſh, with no other material but the ſkins of animals blown up with the mouth. The women weave tole⯑rable coarſe cloth without any loom, merely with pieces of reed.

But, as you may readily ſuppoſe, thoſe works are all ſlowly and badly executed. They are now ignorant of all the firſt prin⯑ciples of philoſophy and mathematics, and incapable of retaining ſuch knowledge in the country, even if it were introduced. The few middling or bad methods they poſſeſs, are derived to them from undiſcoverable antiquity, and are fixed by law and cuſtom, beyond the power of improvement. Cuſtom, which they reſpect as law, would of itſelf be ſufficient to keep them as they are, without the help of deſpotiſm and the de⯑population it produces.

Their towns are generally built of this dirt and taby, upon the very quarries of free-ſtone. Five hundred horſe require a [74] whole day to paſs a ſmall river. It is ſin⯑gular, though not very delicate, to ſee the women working the paſte for the cuſcus ^*, on the ground between their legs.

It is impoſſible to perſuade them that our improvements can be of any uſe to them; and, prejudices apart, they are not perhaps always wrong in thoſe opinions. The arts, the police of populous and poliſh⯑ed nations, are not fit for hords of ſhep⯑herds. They do not want to be taught to do things in leſs time or ſpace, with fewer hands, or leſs force, while they have time, ſpace, and hands enough. Neither men nor women will have occaſion for our fine things, while the former are tyrants and the latter ſlaves.

But ſome of your own learned men diſpute, and ſome deny, the advantages of ſcience and civilization. The moſt abſurd opi⯑nions will find partizans. Doubtleſs, the two extremes of ignorance and refine⯑ment [75] have each their vices and their vir⯑tues, their forts and foibles. What we gain in one way, we muſt often loſe in others; ſuch is the fate—the law of our nature. The progreſs of certain vicious weakneſſes may keep pace with that of knowledge; and the ſame cauſes, wealth and leiſure, may contribute, at once, to the increaſe of vice, luxury, and ſcience. The middle ranks of men may, in ſome caſes, improve, while the two extremes of high and low, may both incline towards corrup⯑tion and depravity. Yet, on the whole, we muſt believe, that man may live happier in a civilized and well-regulated com⯑munity, than in a ſtate of anarchy and ra⯑pine; and that the benefits of arts and im⯑provements muſt be at leaſt ſufficient to reward that continual and laborious purſuit which we ſee always attending their pro⯑greſs.

In the deciſion of ſuch queſtions, I be⯑lieve it will be ſafer to attend to the opi⯑nions of thoſe who have acted certain dif⯑ferent parts and duties among men, than to [76] ſuch as only ſpeculate over them at hom [...] by means of books. But indeed it pro⯑bably requires the joint efforts of bot [...] theory and practice, to advance the grea [...] ſcience of government only a few ſteps far⯑ther, with ſecurity. Hence the extrem [...] rarity of that valuable being—a great law⯑giver,—not a lawyer. Theſe two charac⯑ters have ſeldom been joined.

LETTER XII. Of political Innovations.—Foreign Travel.— Lawgivers.—Emperor.

IN an inquiſitive and improving age, we muſt expect every poſſible variety of opinion to be advanced and ſupported. In the courſe of this progreſs and variety, the increaſe of human knowledge and inquiry may often lead rather to doubt than to pre⯑ſumption. The wiſeſt and oldeſt nations will know the moſt, and will therefore, perhaps, be moſt aware of innovations, and thence may be oftener too cautious, than in the other extreme of raſh and inconſiderate; which laſt is more the characteriſtic of this Barbarian ſtate of ſociety. Your ſuperior ſcience and wiſdom will have a tendency to produce more caution than enterpriſe. You know too well the danger of all extremes in any mea⯑ſures or principles; the impoſſibility of any rule being without exceptions; the power of [78] cuſtom or habit, which is properly calle [...] ſecond nature, and which it is therefore ſel⯑dom prudent or practicable to change; ſ [...] that the very wiſdom of experience may lead towards the extreme of circumſpectio [...] and timidity. An old ſoldier is often too cautious; and, were it not for ſome of thoſ [...] bold innovators in politics, who, with mor [...] ſpirit than knowledge, can carry whol [...] nations on to new experiments, ſociety would probably ſtand ſtill, or go backwards▪

I believe I was led into theſe reflection [...] by ſomething about theſe Moors, and thei [...] government; and by reading accidentally one of your over-wiſe and learned authors who preaches againſt foreign travel, an [...] thence againſt our learning any thing from other nations.

Now I am inclined to believe that it is only by mutual intercourſe that nations im⯑prove, and that even our idleſt and weakeſ [...] ramblers generally bring home more good than evil from their travels; that they moſtly either retain, or afterwards on re⯑flection [79] acquire from thence, a ſomething of utility, and more certainly a ſomething of the agreeable, that ſerves to diſtinguiſh them from the common herd. Nay, without travel, I think we have ſeldom ſeen any man become very great in things of the firſt importance; and ſtill leſs, any one be⯑come univerſally great. I have no idea of a man being fit for a legiſlator or a ſenator, without having travelled. And as to that firſt and moſt important character before mentioned, a great lawgiver, perhaps we cannot expect to ſee one again, while there is ſo little chance of the different excellencies of the human character being joined in one; —not till the great philoſopher, the ſoldier, traveller, ſtateſman, ſcholar, hiſtorian, poet, muſician, &c. can again be found together and joined to the beſt heart. This was al⯑ways a rare being among men; but now, with the minute ſeparation of arts and pro⯑feſſions—with our partial, tedious, inactive, unanimated, unfeeling kind of education, the production of ſuch men is become quite improbable. There has not been perhaps above three or four really great lawgivers [80] in two thouſand years:—a Lycurgus, a Solon, a Numa, and a Penn.

When we ſee the different kinds of vices prevailing in ſuch varied degrees in the dif⯑ferent countries we viſit, and the gradual change of national characters, can we doubt the influence of education, of government, of manners? Or can we believe human na⯑ture or mankind to be always the ſame in all ages and nations? as ſome of our over⯑learned and wiſe would have us believe, as a very great and ſage diſcovery.

I believe we muſt travel, were it only to unlearn the errors and nonſenſe that ſome of our books, and our bookiſh maſters, may have taught us in our youth.

But we muſt not conclude a letter with⯑out mentioning our friend the Emperor. He ſeems ſtill at times to repent of ſome of his harſh treatment of our Conſul. He has ſhewn ſome diſpleaſure towards the Moor and the Jew, who were his inſtru⯑ments in that buſineſs; and they may [81] probably yet receive ſome political and cor⯑poreal chaſtiſement on that account, if thoſe meaſures ſhould ever be properly reſented by our court; which he fears may yet be the caſe, in ſpite of all the comfort and en⯑couragement you give him.

You muſt always expect him to go as far as ever he can with any chance of im⯑punity; but he is, nevertheleſs, eaſily frightened. The French have lately ſilenced him by a ſpirited anſwer to one of his in⯑ſolent meſſages. I think we make leſs uſe of our natural advantages than almoſt any other nation. Is not this from a want of ſufficient knowledge of the character and ſecrets of other courts and nations? Are your miniſters men who have travelled and reſided in other countries?

But the rain, which ſeems to laſt for ever, continues to wet our paper, and every thing. All things here, as well as the houſes, are in a more imperfect, inſufficient, or ruined ſtate, than you can ever there conceive with⯑out ſeeing.

LETTER XIII. The Improbability of Improvements.—The Spaniard in favour.—Our bad Policy.

EVERY thing here wears a neglected, unfiniſhed, and deſolate appearance. The country ſeems only of late to have emerged a little from ruins, and now to be re⯑turning faſt thither again. The footſteps of oppreſſion are ſtrongly marked throughout.

And there is no improving a country like this. Nothing can be done but by the Prince; and you ſee how improbable it is that any thing like a lawgiver,—a Peter the Great,—can ever be produced here—on auroit beau precher. What could move a Prince who feels nothing for his people, his fame, or his poſterity, and who dreads the riches and population of his own coun⯑try? How ſet about to reform a bar⯑barous excluſive religion, and mitigate their [83] abhorrence of Chriſtians, which has been implanted as neceſſary to their exiſtence, and to their conqueſts; and now, perhaps, too deeply rooted in their habits and cuſtoms, ever to be moved? The taſk of reforming or reſtoring ſuch a people, ſeems too great for any man. It would not be forming a new nation, but mending an old one, which is here probably by far the moſt difficult of the two. He would have to undo, or reform himſelf, his court, the people, the government, and then to make up the whole anew from worſe than nothing. Againſt the moſt inveterate prejudices, vices, idleneſs, ignorance,—the labour ſeems be⯑yond the power of man.

Nothing above the rank of a workman can yet live, or be of any uſe here; and Hodge the maſon may be of far greater ſervice than a Duke de Riperda, or a Mar⯑quis de Viale.

Some acquaintance with the rude nations ſhould be kept up among the civilized, though it will be more difficult to acquire [84] than that of their poliſhed neighbours, which may be tolerably procured without moving from home, by the help of books, ſociety, commerce, travellers, reſemblance; —all of which fail us here. Information we find ſo rare and difficult to procure, even of the next town. As to the Euro⯑peans ſettled in ſuch countries, it is melan⯑choly to ſee how ſoon their notions are confined and aſſimilated to the place, and how few ideas they have beyond their own buſineſs.

But ere I forget the news of the day.— This Emperor liberally gave to the Spaniſh Conſul, the laſt audience, without ranſom, eleven Spaniards his priſoners, whom he had bought of the Riſiens. It is only with Carlos, as he calls the King of Spain, that he is now on a truly attached and friendly footing. There is a change for you! What muſt this footing have coſt Carlos? You ſhould ſpare nothing to know the particulars; for from ſome of theſe much may always be drawn of future plans and intentions: the general plan or meaning is eaſily ſeen. At the [85] ſame time he ſaid he had given orders to his ſouthern Baſhaw to tell the Moun⯑taineers to kill all the Engliſh who may be caſt in, or come there, for the future. Fortunately they will not obey him, nor his Baſhaw, eſpecially while they have hopes of getting any thing for them at Santa Cruz, or Mogadore.

I am glad you now ſee the importance of keeping up a conſtant and perſpicacious ſtyle of information and attention to the plans, views, powers, probabilities, &c. of your neighbours; I wiſh that kind of know⯑ledge could be extended to others of our public men; but I fear we ſhall always be ſomewhat deficient in theſe, and our in⯑adequate ideas of other countries but too often appear in our public meaſures. By means of Gibraltar and your fleet, you may always be of the firſt conſequence here, and might manage this and ſome other coun⯑tries as you pleaſe.

LETTER XIV. Georgraphical and phyſical Ideas.—Cultiva⯑tion. — Life. — Diſeaſes. — Deſtruction. — Conjectures in Natural Hiſtory.

I HAVE now ſeen more of this country, toward the mountains behind it. A poor population, thin crops, and a want of ſkill, exertion, and induſtry, are too con⯑ſpicuous throughout the whole. In ſome parts toward the ſkirts of the mountains (which is in moſt countries the beſt ſoil), and in ſome tracts of their plains, the land in tillage is rather extenſive, in proportion to the few miſerable inhabitants ſo thinly ſcattered over it. But they have little or no other labour; no fences, manures, fodder, gardens, houſes, trees, nor roads, to mind, ſo that they will plow, or rather ſcratch, up a good deal of land with their trifling little plough, which is often without iron.

[87]The plains run to ſand in many places, and the beſt parts are generally but of a light and thin ſoil, which may be in a great meaſure owing to the want of cultivation and vege⯑tation, and likewiſe to the want of water; a want that is but too general, I believe, throughout this great continent of Africa; and hence it muſt ever be but thinly peopled. From our knowledge of its coaſts, and the few rivers, it is plain there muſt be much of its internal extent entirely without rivers, and therefore not habitable in thoſe climates.

To form a general geographic idea of this kingdom, conceive a long ſlip of low coun⯑try along this coaſt, from the Straits down to about 28 N. lat. where Atlas ſhoulders on the ocean. A branch of thoſe moun⯑tains running northward behind this plain to Cape Spartel, helps to bound and cut it off from the reſt of the continent. The few rivers (as you ſee in the map) that traverſe this ſlip of country, do not improve it much, except in ſome places where they overflow. Not ſupplied by leſſer ſtreams, as elſewhere, in their courſe from the moun⯑tains [88] to the ſea, this light land drinks up all the rain; they ſeldom produce any verdure even on their banks. Not a plant or ſhrub, nothing verdant to be ſeen, not ſo much as to mark the margin or courſe of the river; ſo that we may almoſt tumble into it, before we diſcover where it is.

There is ſomething very diſmal in theſe extenſive brown flats, with almoſt as good a horizon as at ſea, and without any green object within the diſtant view. The land ſeems to produce ſcarcely any thing but what is ſown; and where any thing grows ſpon⯑taneouſly, it is ſmall of its kind. Though a fine climate, ſeveral of the Spaniſh foreſt trees are here only like ſhrubs. Both ve⯑getable and animal life are in a weakly and unimproved ſtate. One ſees very little ſign of animal ſtrength or vigour, except in the horſe, and that is but ſeldom, for this Emperor has ſadly neglected and diſcouraged the breed of them. The camel, though large, is but a weakly, ſheepiſh, and ſluggiſh animal, and carries but a ſmall load in proportion to his ſize. The fierce [89] lions and tygers are in the mountains, which, I ſuſpect, are here at leaſt the fitteſt habitations for man too.

The diſeaſes moſt common here are agues, dropſies, itch, and other cutaneous diſorders, often to a violent or leprous de⯑gree. Pray are not theſe the effects of poor blood, and of poor and naſty living?

But ſome of their land produces good grain, though their mode of huſbandry gives but poor thin crops. Their being able lately to export ſome of it, is not ſo much a proof of their induſtry, as of a want of population to eat it. However, this ex⯑portation might be of ſervice to the country, if the Emperor could let it alone, or ma⯑nage it with common ſenſe; both of which are quite improbable.

Towards the ſkirts of the mountains, which there form green hills, though many of them too ſandy like the plains, we find more flocks, and ſome good land, and, I think, a better ſort of people, and ſeveral [90] kinds of good cattle, which it might be worth while to export, and to try by croſs breeds in other countries. May not this peace and communication with Spain in time produce ſome good effects to both theſe countries at leaſt? They want much to improve their breed of cattle in Spain.

There are different races of Mountaineers between this kingdom and Algiers, who acknowledge neither ſtate, and I believe are almoſt independent. Some of them are called Brebers, and hence is ſuppoſed to come the name of Berberia. Thoſe ſeem to be the oldeſt inhabitants, moſt like to the Mauritanians of the Romans, and it is ſaid ſome of them ſtill call all Europeans or ſtrangers by a name that ſounds like Romi. This Emperor goes often againſt ſome of them, perhaps partly by way of exerciſing his troops; which would be a very good plan, if he had ſkill, exertion, and ſteadineſs equal to it. But he makes no conqueſts, and only raiſes by force ſome accidental contributions. In thoſe expeditions he has likewiſe a view [91] to deſtruction, both in the countries through which he marches, and thoſe he goes againſt. To impoveriſh, to depreſs the efforts, and deſtroy the effects of induſtry, is one of the grand ſecret objects of this ſpecies of government. His rabble of an army, and its followers, by the circuit they uſually take on theſe occaſions, moſt effec⯑tually perform the different offices of de⯑ſtruction, and may be ſaid to eat up the country. Theſe Mountaineers were pro⯑bably the kind of inhabitants found here at the time of the Arabian or Mahomedan conqueſts. They ſeem more induſtrious, though a ſmaller race of people than thoſe of the tent villages in the plains. They have fixed habitations, huts, and ſome little gardens.

This now ſtreight low coaſt may former⯑ly have been in a more concave, or in⯑dented and uneven line, and may have been filled up thus to a right line, by time and the ſea: now without bays, head⯑ [...]ands, or harbours, all the rivers forming [...]ars at their entrances. There is only one [92] good bay, Woladia, which might be made a good harbour, if you would help him to do it, which I think you ought, without ſcruple or fear.

Mogadore might likewiſe, perhaps, be improved, by aſſiſting the iſlands with piers and jettees, &c. if it could be deepened by the help of the little river, or other means.

There are few hard bodies to be found; no marble, or ores, till we go back to the mountains. Moſt of the ſtone on the coaſt ſeems like newly hardened, or juſt coheſing ſand, like that behind Gibraltar rock. Near Mequinez and Fez, the harder bodies begin to appear: their ſtrata approach the ſurface, and, I ſuppoſe, form the great body of mountains that appear here in the diſtant view.

Some quarries of an indifferent kind of marble have been much worked near Me⯑quinez, and laſt by Muley Iſhmael, with his numerous Chriſtian ſlaves, for his ex⯑tenſive [93] and uſeleſs buildings here. Many of his half-made columns ſtill lie about the quarries.

In the back parts of theſe plains, on ap⯑proaching the hills, we paſſed by large tracts where the upper ſtratum conſiſted of what we call plum-pudding ſtone, often with earth or ſand beneath. Muſt not this have come from the mountains? and do not all theſe things indicate theſe plains to be new country? But I mean to trouble you with very few of my conjectures in natural hiſ⯑ [...]ory; and the particulars would require more ſtudy, and a longer reſidence on pur⯑ [...]oſe. Only let me obſerve, that I am in⯑ [...]lined to think the land of this globe is in⯑ [...]reaſing, and that the ſea adds more to [...]ome coaſts than it takes away from others, [...]y operating on the bottom, and throwing [...]t up. And all the earth that is above water, was raiſed by theſe two powers, viz. [...]. By volcanoes and earthquakes breaking [...]he upper ſtrata of the globe, and throwing [...]p ſome parts above water; and then, [...]. The ſea gradually throwing up materials, [94] taken from the bottom as well as from other ſides, or ſhores, againſt ſuch volcanic pro⯑jections as points or centres of formation or accumulation. I do not think the ſtrata appear too much broken for this ſuppoſition, as ſome obſerve.

LETTER XV. Sketches of the Population, Revenues, and Force of the Country.—Its Conqueſt or Colonization,—and Women.

THERE are, I believe, ſome accounts of this country already publiſhed; but as I have hardly ſeen any of them, I muſt run the riſk of repeating what may have been written before; eſpecially in deſcend⯑ing to particulars, in which I do not, how⯑ever, profeſs to deal much.

The ſize of this kingdom, as far as the royal authority is known to reach, may be eſtimated at about fifty thouſand ſquare miles (England contains, I believe, forty-nine thouſand); taking its length to the river Suz, or about Teradaunt, as nearly five hundred, and its mean breadth about one hundred.

[96]The number of inhabitants it is difficult, or impoſſible, to know with any preciſion; though they might know it nearly by means of ſome taxes, and the Baſhaws. But as they have very imperfect notions of large numbers, all information, where theſe are concerned, muſt be very uncertain.

At Tetuan and Mequinez we found ſitua⯑tions from whence we could count the number of houſes, pretty nearly, in the length and breadth, or of two croſſing diameters. We found Tetuan contain about 1500 houſes.

By the beſt accounts of the moſt populous provinces, and comparing them with the others, we cannot make the whole popula⯑tion [97] of this kingdom amount to much above two million.

Of his revenue we can likewiſe only make ſome oblique inquiries and gueſſes, through the clouds of myſtery and ignorance.

By the addition of preſents, confiſca⯑tions, robberies, his annual revenue may ſometimes amount to nearly one million hard dollars, or two hundred thouſand pounds.

[98]But, excepting the Duquela provinces, the reſt is, I believe, uncertain. He there⯑fore wiſhes always to farm his ports; but I wonder he gets any body to take them, for it is obvious he means after all to fleece the farmer.

His navy now conſiſts of about twenty veſſels, the largeſt of twenty guns. You might, and perhaps ſhould, help him to double that force, ſince he likes it. He can⯑not hurt you much; but he may be made a proper checque on your enemies. And the efforts to be a naval and commercial power, might help to improve his country—if any thing could; and the improvement of this part of the world is certainly for your good.

His land-force is quite uncertain. Every man is ſuppoſed to be a ſoldier, and always ready; though far from being the caſe. In⯑deed every man here ſeems as fit as any other for any or every thing; each ſerves indiſcriminately as horſe, foot, ſailor, artil⯑leriſt, officer, or private. As officers, he ſeems to appoint and reduce them from mere [99] caprice, and not by any fixed mode, or merit; as if to ſhew his power, and jealouſly avoid any fixed rule of conduct. Indeed, no command ſeems to give its poſſeſſor any rank or permanent authority. All are equally ſlaves to his caprices.

We may judge of his force and diſcipline by this late ſiege of Maſaghan. He could not, after all his efforts, aſſemble above 50,000 men, taking it from the beſt reports; but all reports magnify here. They came ſtraggling in for many days during the firſt of the ſiege; and before the end of it, two months and a half, they were reducd to one-fourth or one-fifth of their greateſt number, all ſtealing away when tired. Indeed they cannot, in any great numbers, ſtay long in a place, the country and methods of provid⯑ing being inadequate; but this being by the ſea, he got ſupplied for his money, though with ſome difficulty and great expence. He had an enemy to contend with who hardly attempted to interrupt any of his clumſy operations either by ſea or land.

[100]Their wants are few, and from the few arts neceſſary to ſupply thoſe wants more hands can be ſpared than with us. Half the able-bodied might perhaps take the field for a little time; whereas with us, I believe, one-eighth would be found too many to be ſpared from the arts and trades that are wanted in our ſtate of ſociety: but in theirs, the women, the aged, and the children, might nearly do the neceſſary work in this climate during moſt part of the year. Such a ſtate, like ſome of the ancient republics, if it could be wiſely governed and diſciplined, might have great advantages, in national ſtrength, over more poliſhed and luxurious nations.

It is a great pity that the European powers are giving up or loſing the places they held on this African coaſt, inſtead of gaining more, as I think they ought. Thoſe places were a kind of military ſchools ra⯑ther better than none; they produced ſome additional motives to military and national exertions; they ſerved as ſome aſylum, or hope for the eſcape of ſlaves and priſoners; and in this and ſeveral other ways were a [101] kind of check on theſe barbarians. The Portugueſe, in their more flouriſhing days, very properly conſidered them in this light, and as a footing towards the formation of future colonies here; in which it is to be hoped ſome European nation will yet again ſucceed as well as the Romans.

It is, perhaps, in the principles of the preſent art of war, that ten thouſand men, trained on purpoſe under a good general, might beat as many as could be brought into the field of ſuch troops as theſe, provided they had firſt ſome experience in this kind of war; for without great precaution, our inexperience of barbarous armies and methods of war might expoſe us to ſome dangers at firſt, and to misfortunes that might prove deciſive. Though our ſuperior ſcience, patience, and diſcipline, when ſkil⯑fully employed, ought to give us great advantages over ſuch a rabble, yet the general who attacks or invades any of theſe Barbary ſtates ought to be very much on his guard at firſt, or his troops may be ſur⯑priſed. Aſtoniſhed at their unuſual modes of [102] attack; at the great agility of their horſe in retreating, breaking, returning; at their horrid ſhrieks and yells, of which we can have no idea, as our lungs are incapable of ſuch exertions from want of habit, we ſhould be apt to give way, which would be deciſive.

No modern nation has yet found the ſecret of making either war or peace with them to any advantage proportioned to the difference of ſcience and diſcipline. It is amazing, I believe even to themſelves, to ſee the nations of Europe, with all their ſupe⯑riorities, become ſo ſubmiſſive and tributary to them. We ſeem to keep each other in countenance, and ſhare the diſgrace amongſt us.

If Ruſſia ever ſucceeds in her enterpriſes, and can get once fairly into the Mediterra⯑nean, ſhe may ſhew us how to treat theſe piratical ſtates; for ſhe has the only troops ſufficiently acquainted with ſuch enemies, and ſhe will probably be wiſe enough to keep up that knowledge by frequent wars. Any [103] other power who may have occaſion to attack them would perhaps do well to borrow a Ruſ⯑ſian general and ſome other of their officers.

To be conquered by a civilized and ge⯑nerous nation would be a happy event for theſe poor Africans. They have latterly been ſaved from it—we can hardly tell how, or why, when we conſider the enterpriſing ſpirit of modern Europe. It has probably been owing to our exhauſting wars with each other, and to thoſe apparently greater objects of the Weſtern and Eaſtern worlds, in ſearch of gold. But it may juſtly be doubted, if thoſe objects be greater? Theſe northern parts of Africa are capable of all ſorts of uſeful productions, of more value than gold, and nearer home.

It is not improbable that France may be approaching to a ſtate of population and en⯑terpriſe that may make ſuch colonization and conqueſt occur and become neceſſary to her, or at leaſt to join in ſuch a ſcheme, if it ſhould once become the faſhion. And if her go⯑vernment can ever be ſteady enough, in any [104] ſyſtem; or if ſhe ſhould ever recover her conſtitution, which ſome of their ſpeculative men think poſſible, and which I do not think probable; ſhe would then be too powerful, and give law to Europe. Egypt ought, perhaps, to be the firſt country in Africa to be conquered and coloniſed from Europe, on account of its ſingular ſituation. Surrounded by deſerts, it would be eaſily defended againſt all its neighbours. Wealthy, ſcientific, and diſciplined nations, are not in theſe days to be conquered by crowds of barbarians: the modern expenſive ſciences of fortification, and war in general, form their ſecurity. Then the reſt of the northern African coaſt might be gradually ſubdued and civilized by ſmall colonies and good government. But it would require ſome of our Penns and Franklins to eſtabliſh, or im⯑prove upon the Engliſh conſtitution here: only they muſt be warriors; that would be indiſpenſable in this ſituation, and is generally ſo in every great character. Neither the government nor character of the French will anſwer for colonization. I believe the le⯑giſlator for theſe countries ſhould be born [105] in England, or in Engliſh America; and yet he muſt likewiſe be well acquainted with the European, the Aſiatic, and African na⯑tions, of which his ſubjects would here con⯑ſiſt; and he muſt be a great ſoldier—ignorant of nothing. Theſe and other requiſites ſeem to me indiſpenſable in the character of a great lawgiver, and muſt render it the rareſt character upon earth.

Portugal, in the times of her ſpirit, wiſ⯑dom, and glory, during the reigns of her Johns and Emanuels, attempted conqueſt and colonization here too; and with great ſuc⯑ceſs, conſidering the times and circumſtances. By a little more wiſdom, ſteadineſs, and diſ⯑cipline;—with leſs jealouſy, and more aſſiſt⯑ance from Ferdinand of Aragon, ſhe might have fixed a colony in this country. Now, it is perhaps only to be accompliſhed by the united force of different ſtates, as it has been prevented by their mutual jea⯑louſies.

Perpetual war is probably the true ſpirit of Mahomediſm; and when they ceaſe to be [106] conquerors, they are nothing, their govern⯑ment being unfit for the arts of peace. It is only war, or ſome ſuch powerful mo⯑tive of neceſſity, that can induce them to move with any order or exertion. So that, whenever the European nations can agree about the meaſures and conſequences, they may probably do what they pleaſe with both the European and African Muſſul⯑mans. Perhaps it may be brought about without France, or at leaſt without her tak⯑ing the lead in thoſe conqueſts. When Auſtria and Ruſſia can agree, and can ſatisfy France and Pruſſia, and get fairly to the Mediterranean, then Greece, and others, both new and old countries, may flouriſh, thoſe ſeas may regain their for⯑mer importance, and theſe fertile African coaſts become again the granaries of the world. There is no apparent revolution ariſing in the horizon of future probability, of more importance to this part of the world, and to the improvement of mankind, in that of their commerce, population, arts, and induſtry. The practicability and utility of ſuch meaſures may be perceived from the [107] hiſtory of Carthage, of Rome, and of Portugal. Theſe countries have always received co⯑lonies, and have been improved by them; it is of conſequence, that they ſhould come from the moſt improved nations. Maho⯑medan conqueſt from Aſia having ſpread itſelf along this fine African coaſt, and its being left there ſo long to degenerate, and then to infeſt and plague the reſt of the world, is a great ſhame to poliſhed Europe. But ſhe muſt probably, in time, recover and aſſert her natural ſuperiority here too, as the Mahomedan power of itſelf declines. If we had been better and more liberal politicians, we might have haſtened thoſe events, by giving Minorca to Ruſſia, and thereby, perhaps, more effectually ſecuring to our⯑ſelves a ſhare of the beneficial conſequences.

When governments ſhall have learned to act on great and liberal principles, and ſhall have taught mankind to tolerate and enrich each other, Mahomedans may make better ſubjects when ſubordinate than when in power. Thoſe who were left in Spain and [108] Portugal were, and would probably hav [...] continued, very good ſubjects, if thoſe go⯑vernments had known how to treat them▪ Here the natives, the people in general might be brought to join againſt their pre⯑ſent rulers, notwithſtanding their religion.

Theſe political ſpeculations I think of im⯑portance, and you muſt have them as they occur. This ſtate of barbariſm (as we may affect to ſtyle it), and their wilful ignoranc [...] of our arts and fancied improvements, may not be ſo improper for poor and moun⯑tainous countries, in ſome parts of th [...] world; but it is ſurely a pity, that ſuch rich and improveable plains, ſo near to us, ſhould remain in a condition ſo depopulated, and in ſuch poor cultivation, loſt, as it were [...] to mankind. The Romans thought ſo of theſe countries, and acted from that principle.

You know the women are jealouſly guarded, and are ſeldom ſeen here, except ſome of the loweſt, the domeſtic, and aged; but all of them are then covered up to [109] the eyes with woollen, and over the face ſome dirty rag marked and ſullied with the breath, and only the eyes to be ſeen in ghaſtly ſtare. They are generally in⯑clined to be fat and ſhort, and have an odd, and to us a moſt ungraceful, appear⯑ance; round, ſhapeleſs woollen bundles, moving along; certainly neither very clean⯑ly nor deſirable, at leaſt according to our taſte.

Where women are thus conſidered only as domeſtic ſlaves, and marriage as a kind of purchaſe, they can have no weight or in⯑fluence in ſociety, which therefore can hardly be poliſhed or improved. By this excluſion of the ſex, there will not remain ſufficient motives, means, nor uſes for introducing the agreeable arts; and we know that the agreeable and the uſeful arts are mutually connected and muſt aſſiſt and produce each other.

Nations halt or ſtop at different ſtages of civilization. In the Eaſt, ſociety has been [110] ſtopped and fixed always at too early a ſtage of its progreſs, viz. during the periods while women were yet conſidered as a kind of private property, or plunder: and ſo it threatens long to remain over a great part of the earth—an eternal diſgrace to human nature.

LETTER XVI. Of the rude and civilized State.—Of Educa⯑tion.—Comparative Remarks.

SEVERAL other things would be ne⯑ceſſary, ſo as to make the moſt of a journey into this country, and render it ſomewhat more agreeable both to you and me: ſuch as being better provided for tra⯑velling and encamping; a friend or two for converſation, and to promote reflection, with the habits and leiſure for writing; a longer reſidence to examine the different parts, if worth the time and trouble, of which, at times, I have my doubts. How⯑ever, ſuch countries might produce as many new and original obſervations as the more refined and improved nations, though theſe furniſh but melancholy pictures of human nature.

If ſuch was the ſimplicity and happi⯑neſs of the Golden Age, dio ce ne liberi: [112] though our diſapprobation or diſguſt may be little more than a confeſſion that their vices and errors are different from ours, and that the inhabitant of poliſhed Europe, with his preſent numerous wants, muſt ſhudder at the idea of returning to the naked and forlorn ſtate of barbarian ſociety. But in this, they may probably be even with us; and and on each ſide of thoſe ſtraits, the mutual diſlike and contempt may be equally ſtrong. But it is not ſo much the want of luxuries, as of virtue and free⯑dom, which always grow up together, that would here diſguſt the liberal mind. Where no man is looked upon, nor expected to be honeſt, friendly, or generous, it is in vain to look for ſuch virtues. Thoſe cannot ſo eaſily be produced, even by the beſt inſtitu⯑tions, and cannot be expected to ariſe ſpon⯑taneouſly without culture or encouragement, and ſtill leſs where there is neither uſe, motive, nor demand for them.

When we look to Europe, and conſider your ſuperior motives and opportunities to virtue, activity, and knowledge, we ſhould [113] expect your people to be better and wiſer, and farther before theſe, than they really are. More vices and errors ſeem to grow up with ſcience and civilization, than have yet been well accounted for.

In Europe, the wiſeſt among you ſeem to look up to laws more than to the form of your government or legiſlatures, for every thing, and conſider the impartial execution of thoſe laws, as the moſt perfect ſtate of freedom and happineſs. It may be ſo with your preſent moral powers and character. But laws alone ſeem inſufficient to make men what they ought to be, unleſs they tend more effectually than yours to improve your manners, morals, and education—your good diſcipline, habits, and induſtry. But ſome of your rulers, and over-wiſe men, think that the people ought to be kept in ignorance and poverty, in order to make them work. If your governments and ſtate of ſociety cannot add ſome other better motives or means to produce labour and virtue, it is a confeſſion of great debility or ineptitude, or worſe. I muſt ever think thoſe principles [114] and opinions to be wrong and erroneous, proceeding from the fearful indolence and ignorance of tyranny. In the moſt in⯑duſtrious, and hence the moſt happy coun⯑tries that I have ſeen, the people were the fartheſt removed from ignorance and po⯑verty. I ſhould beware of giving men of ſuch opinions much influence in any ſyſtem of education, legiſlation, or police, if I did not know the ſmall effects our ſpeculative and doubtful opinions have on our conduct, except a few of the honeſt Quixots or en⯑thuſiaſts, characters likewiſe very neceſſary in ſociety.

I ſhould be for your beſtowing more honour and reſpect on thoſe who educate your children; and ſhould endeavour to throw that buſineſs into the hands of genius▪ —of men of the firſt-rate character and abi⯑lities, who would prefer the pleaſure of forming real and uſeful men, according to truth and nature, to the unnatural toil o [...] marring or modelling them into particular ſects of ſpoilt or artificial beings.

[115]Thoſe monkiſh fraternities called univer⯑ſities, are too ancient in their inſtitution, modes, and methods. No human eſtabliſh⯑ment can laſt ſo long without more frequent reforms, and even total renovations. Though they have been forced to follow, in ſome degree, the changes of times, the old leven ſtill too plainly appears. Originally eſta⯑bliſhed ſolely for educating churchmen, they ſeem now as if intended to render learning of difficult, inſtead of eaſy acquiſi⯑tion, and to keep uſeful knowledge out of ſight. But I think they will be forced to improve ſtill farther, both in matter and method; and the neceſſity of a more manly and direct education, muſt in time appear, —one of more general and more uſeful knowledge, habits, and abilities.

Here, there is no hope of amelioration of any kind. They are paſt all the periods of improvement: to become ſtationary, is the utmoſt that can be expected of them. No traces of their former learning appear. Of the library at Fez, we can learn nothing, but that no ſuch thing exiſts now there: [116] and even the emperor himſelf ſeems jealous of letting us enquire farther. Yet we may ſee that theſe people are naturally ſtudious, and rather grave and perſevering; ſo that they might perhaps be made to learn again, if they had ſufficient encouragement by good government, liberty, and ſecurity. In the ſea-ports, we have ſeen them play cheſs, but not in the inland parts; they are there probably too miſerable even for that degree of eaſe, or deſcanſo.

You ſee I am ſtill intereſted about you Europeans, though I had begun to feel as if almoſt an African myſelf. But many things now conſpire to turn the mind, like the needle, perpetually to the north; and we look towards home with a longing eye, in ſome compound ratio of the diſtance and time of abſence. It is intereſting to obſerve the effects of approaching home on ſome of our party, who have been many years abſent in ſlavery, poverty, and diſtreſs.

Hardly any thing in this country can now fix our attention. I ſuppoſe we muſt now [117] firſt get to that ſide, before we can attend to this. In the mind's eye, we ſee fair Europe all green and beautiful, and this all black and brown: the one advancing, and the other ſtanding ſtill, to be left ſtill farther out of ſight. Hope and imagina⯑tion go on to gild the diſtant and future proſpect of your improvements, and can ſee in your increaſing motives to activity and reſearch, the treaſuring up a ſtock of uſeful knowledge for the benefit of poſterity and of mankind; while theſe naked and forlorn regions are long likely to remain the ſame; and each generation of men, like thoſe of other animals, go on like the laſt, without an idea of change or improvement in the ſpecies or individual, or in any of the uſeful or agreeable arts of life.

Such are my romantic dreams among the now naked ſkirts of Atlas, where once flouriſhed a populous and cultivated Roman colony. They ſerve to amuſe in this now worſe than ſolitude.

LETTER XVII. A political Reverie.

AS I do not at preſent intend to trouble you much more about buſineſs or travels from hence, I ſend you another of my waking dreams or reveries, ſuggeſted by our preſent ſituation among theſe poor Barbarians.

You know I have formerly imagined, with others, that we might improve theſe people. Indulging in that idea, I have ſuppoſed myſelf a leader of a rude nation, formed of the ſhepherds of ſome plains, no matter where, and the hunters of neigh⯑bouring mountains; fancying that ſome advantages might be made to accrue from mixing thoſe two different ſtages of ſociety, by retaining ſome of the beſt parts of each, in order to carry them on to the next ſtage of cultivators.

[119]I had at length prevailed on them to re⯑main attached for ſome time to a fine coun⯑try, conſiſting of plains, rivers, mountains, and to conſider it as their home during the beſt parts of the year, though they could not all at other ſeaſons entirely give up their habitual occupations of hunting, and ſometimes going to war with their neigh⯑bours. I had got them to attempt, with ſome ſucceſs, the raiſing of corn and pulſe, with the management and ſaving of ſome graſs, and other indigenous plants, for themſelves and their cattle; and had gra⯑dually brought them to ſee the uſes of ſome fences and diviſions of the land; and then, by degrees, to feel the advantages of having houſes, and little gardens for raiſing more food for themſelves: and from thoſe firſt rude ideas of fixed property, we were going on forming fixed villages, and had marked out ſome diſtricts of land to each.

I appointed a certain number of the moſt intelligent and leading men to meet me, having long meditated, and prepared them for, a free and confidential conference. The [120] following were the heads or meaning of ſome things I endeavoured to explain to them:

"Friends and companions,

"After all our various ſucceſſes and la⯑bours in war and in peace, and our confiden⯑tial converſations, you are now, I believe, ſtill more confirmed in the truth of what I have generally foretold, and of my real in⯑tentions for the general good; you have therefore ſubmitted to my command and advice, as well as from an opinion of my ſuperior ſkill and conduct; I wiſh now to confirm you ſtill farther in your late wiſe reſolutions to improve, ſhewing you an evident increaſe of your happineſs with that of your induſtry; for theſe always go to⯑gether. Some of you are now accuſtomed to conſider thoſe great objects of popula⯑tion, diſcipline, form of government, na⯑tional greatneſs, which likewiſe depend on each other. Let us keep thoſe objects in view, and go ſtraight forward, guided by the maxims we have ſo often conſidered. Moſt of all depends on your form of go⯑vernment [121] or conſtitution, which we muſt go on gradually to improve; dividing the buſineſs and authority, for which the people have been accuſtomed to look only to me, yet more diſtinctly and methodically among you all, while I retain only thoſe parts that are abſolutely neceſſary for union, for ex⯑pedition, force, and in ſhort for the good of the whole.

"We have, you ſee, at length ſucceeded in perſuading many of our people to culti⯑vate the earth; and they already perceive it may be made to produce much more for food and clothing than their practice of hunting, or of negligently attending their poor and wandering flocks. You begin to ſee ſome of the precautions neceſſary to our ſucceſs in this ſettled way of life. Our keeneſt hunters have now their ſeaſons of labour, which were formerly thoſe of idle⯑neſs; their flocks multiply, and all ſubſiſt through the different ſeaſons.

"In the few nations you know, and in others whoſe hiſtory you will now learn, [122] you will ſee that their dangers, difficulties, and want of ſucceſs, have generally pro⯑ceeded from their not changing their mode of government, laws, and manners, ſo as to keep pace with their change of ſituation. Theſe things have ſeldom been carried on together, but have left each other behind. The ſame motives and principles of neceſ⯑ſity, of mutual aſſiſtance, that brought men firſt to live and act together, and the few laws that could unite and regulate them in the woods and in the field of war, have proved inadequate to the regulation of towns and villages, when property, riches, arts, pleaſures, and inequalities, came to in⯑creaſe.

"We muſt go on endeavouring, by de⯑grees, to get the people to continue ſub⯑miſſive to the authority, or at leaſt to follow the advice, of the chiefs and elders of the villages, in peace as well as in war, by giving them the election of thoſe in a pro⯑per form and rotation; carefully ſecuring the obedience of thoſe chiefs or elders, by giving them an intereſt and a ſhare in the [123] national government. The inſtitutions, the care and management of theſe ſmaller di⯑viſions of the people, are of the firſt import⯑ance. On that foundation muſt be built the whole fabric of your government and of your ſucceſs.

"Let us then form a few ſimple and plain laws and regulations, call together thoſe heads of villages, when properly elect⯑ed, and propoſe theſe things to their ap⯑probation; habituate them thus to think and ſpeak on public affairs; and let them at leaſt ſeem to chuſe how they will be go⯑verned.

"Let us then determine who ſhall think for the whole and adviſe, who ſhall approve, and in ſhort the form of your legiſlature, and of whom it ſhall conſiſt, ſo as to include the intereſt of all as near as may be. We ſhall then regulate our conduct as legiſlators in making laws, diſtinguiſhing the fixed and permanent from the temporary and experimental, and then decide who ſhall judge and apply them, and who ſhall put them in execution; for theſe [124] muſt be diſtinct offices. Various difficulties will here doubtleſs ariſe, which you muſt wait to determine by patience and experience; but if we can keep the chief objects con⯑ſtantly in view, go directly to them, and not ſuffer ourſelves to be embarraſſed by needleſs diſtinctions and refinements, w [...] ſhall make a greater progreſs, and avoid many errors, troubles, and difficulties, into which other nations have fallen. You know one another, and will readily enough fix on the fitteſt perſons for each office when once we have aſſigned and diſtin⯑guiſhed the duties of each.

The method of one or two perſons re⯑preſenting a whole diſtrict annually in ou [...] legiſlature, you will find to be convenient full of beneficial conſequences, and a ſourc [...] of great improvements. Whether all ſhoul [...] have a voice in chuſing thoſe repreſentative according to their property, or each hav [...] one vote, and then property give addi⯑tional votes, you will determine by experi⯑ment, leaving this and every ſubject ope [...] to improvement. It is doubtleſs juſt to [125] conſult all in what concerns all; but as that will become daily more impracticable, it will be nearly the ſame in all, and even better in ſome, caſes, by means of repreſentation, which is one of the happieſt diſcoveries that ever was adopted, but which is not yet well underſtood anywhere. By this, and every other means, we muſt keep up the lower and induſtrious claſſes of the people in all their due weight and importance in the ſtate; for they are always too apt to let themſelves fall into dependance, and thence into neglect, contempt, and oppreſſion; and then they have recourſe to violence and deſtruction, in order to redreſs themſelves—but they know not how. They cannot take their own part, as they form a body which cannot move without doing miſchief. They muſt act only by their repreſentatives.

"If this degree of order and regularity can once be accompliſhed, the nation may then go on in a continual progreſs, and each generation improve upon the expe⯑rience of the former; though they muſt [126] never expect to arrive at perfection. A nation is a ſtrong and coarſe machine, and muſt not be too nice, nor embarraſs itſelf with too many laws and regula⯑tions to remedy little evils which are in⯑herent in human nature. For example: after the experience of ages, the wiſeſt men of the wiſeſt nations could not probably compoſe your legiſlature ſo that the intereſt of all ſhould always be conſidered, or where that of ſome individuals or ſets of people may not ſometimes prevail beyond their due ſhare. Such evils as theſe, and many others, muſt be remedied as they ariſe. Though the intereſt of the whole, and of each individual, is always to be comparative⯑ly conſidered and eſtimated; though public meaſures and neceſſary improvements will gradually require more thought, knowledge, and regulation; yet you muſt carefully avoid making your laws and government too complicated, but preſerve the whole in that ſimple and plain ſtate ſo as to be eaſily un⯑derſtood by all. Simplicity is not to be ſacri⯑ficed to trifling amendments. A wheel too [127] much will ſpoil any machine. While you make few laws, and truſt each other, you will exerciſe and ſtrengthen the beſt parts of your nature, a certain confidence and be⯑nevolence; and you will at leaſt be longer in becoming unworthy of that truſt. By numerous laws and precautions to protect us againſt our brethren, we nouriſh the ſelfiſh and malevolent diſpoſitions, which are too apt to grow up as arts and ſociety ad⯑vance.

"It requires ſome ſkill and reflection to hit the right medium in the legiſlative in⯑ſtitutions and executive government, ſo that the laſt may not be too ſlow, nor the former too quick; neither over-cautious or liti⯑gious, on the one hand; nor too variable, capricious, or precipitate, on the other:— though the firſt is probably the ſafeſt of the two extremes. The form we are about to eſtabliſh will, I think, nearly anſwer theſe conditions.

"I have often explained to you the nu⯑merous advantages of committing the exe⯑cution [128] of your laws and regulations to one perſon only,—a chief, ſupported by the will or force of the whole, with full powers for the ready execution of every law; but in the manner likewiſe preſcribed by the legiſ⯑lature, and under control ſufficient to pre⯑vent his going beyond them. Though that degree of control may not always be ſo eaſily found as imagined, for it is diffi⯑cult to give power enough to do good, and yet prevent that power from doing harm ſometimes; you will be ſhewn the methods hitherto practiſed for that purpoſe, upon which you may improve.

"Your laws of ſucceſſion and inheritance, and of transferring property, muſt be well conſidered, and carefully preſerved from becoming intricate and complicated, to which they will be ſubject as you improve. In moſt caſes of doubt or diſpute, an arbitra⯑tion of neighbours properly choſen, will at once ſerve to ſettle the caſe, and ſhew you the beſt way of forming ſuch bodies to judge of your differences and offences, to improve your police, arts, regulations, &c.

[129]"It is of great importance to fix in time the mode of ſucceſſion and inherit⯑ance, and eſpecially the ſucceſſion of your chiefs. The plaineſt and eaſieſt, you will probably find to be that by birth and primogeniture; and you will have an equal chance of getting as good chiefs in this way as in any other, eſpecially if you take proper precautions in their education when young, and have their duties marked out by fixed laws and forms when in years, and in office.

"How much of your property muſt be taken for the uſe of the public, for the good of the whole, you will be able in time to diſcover. It will vary with your ſituation, character, and improvements: hence avoid granting too much, or for too long a time. The honeſt and vigilant adminiſtration or expenditure of the public money, is per⯑haps one of the moſt difficult taſks in ſo⯑ciety, and hence highly meritorious: render it not more difficult by the want of order; diminiſh the temptations and opportunities to fraud, by controls and rotation.

[130]"You muſt travel, and learn from other nations, taking advantage of their ſuperior knowledge and experience. With ſome of thoſe you will do well to keep up a con⯑ſtant communication and friendſhip, but without catching their follies and vices. You may learn as much by their errors, as by imitating their wiſer inſtitutions; but you may learn ſome uſeful arts, the cultiva⯑tion of more plants of utility, the uſe of more tame animals, and of ſome other me⯑tals beſides your iron and copper. From the nations whence theſe come, you may get others, and may learn other uſe⯑ful arts; but you muſt imitate them wit [...] great caution in their complicated ſyſtem [...] of laws, politics, learning, religion; in thei [...] notions of good and evil, of virtues an [...] vices. From their numerous, perplexing and idle books on theſe ſubjects, your wiſ [...] men may be able to ſelect ſome few goo [...] things; from a hundred volumes may per⯑haps be extracted one or two fit for you.

"You will probably find that thoſe wiſ [...] and poliſhed nations in Europe hav [...] [131] gone the ofteneſt and fartheſt wrong in the things that concern them moſt, as in their religious, and in much of their civil policy; and in their ideas and regulations concern⯑ing women, and the connection of the ſexes.

"In the firſt, they have too frequently permitted the fearful and ſuperſtitious diſ⯑poſition of man to carry him too far, often into habits in which he loſt the original feelings and ſentiments of nature and of ſociety, without gaining any new ones of ſufficient, or of any beneficial influence on his conduct. Fear, a conſtant ſenſe of dan⯑ger, and of the utility of mutual aſſiſtance, having been obſerved as the moſt powerful motives to union, thoſe fears have been artificially kept alive after the dangers or original reaſons for them ceaſed to exiſt; ſo that by fear and ignorance men were eaſily made and continued ſuperſtitious, and thereby more readily frightened out of their money, and into ſubjection to other deſigning men. But this would have been no great evil, if the people had been left to [132] their choice in the kinds and degrees of ſuperſtition; but when government came to be ſo ill adviſed as to take a part in their quarrels, and to eſpouſe and protect a par⯑ticular ſect, and to force and bribe people into it, then all liberty of opinion was loſt, equity and juſtice were injured, and people thenceforward hated and perſecuted each other for mere difference of opinion, or for being born in a different country.

"In our caſe, though we cannot at once relax all the original bonds of union and good behaviour, we may ſurely ſet them free from ſome of the moſt oppreſſive ſuper⯑ſtitious fears, if not too late; and keep it in view gradually to ſet them free from others, as we can apply to other principles in the mind, of a more pleaſant and more uſeful nature. The temporary regularity of a timid ſubordination, is too trifling an advantage, if it is one; and after a certain period is unneceſſary, and perhaps injurious to human nature. This ſuperſtitious diſ⯑poſition, you already ſee, may be ſo in⯑dulged and increaſed, as to create imaginary [133] dangers and inviſible powers without end. Let us rather try to ſtop or mitigate it, if not gone too far. Let us venture by de⯑grees to teach them nearly the naked truth, and gradually baniſh every ſuperſtitious practice, and retain only the worſhip of the One great, but unknown, Spirit. I have formerly thought myſelf obliged to make uſe of this ſuperſtitious diſpoſition, perhaps oftener than neceſſary, from want of op⯑portunities, and perhaps of abilities, to find better motives. Let us make amends by baniſhing thoſe ſelfiſh fears for better and more benevolent ſentiments; for the ſeeds of both are in us, and either may be culti⯑vated.

"As to the intentions of the Great Spirit concerning ourſelves and this univerſe, you will be able to learn nothing from the poliſhed Europeans or Aſiatics, that you can underſtand. Permit men individually to form what opinions they pleaſe concern⯑ing theſe, and all things. The only care of government is, to ſee that they tolerate, and do not torment nor injure each other about [134] opinions. You muſt therefore beware of their forming religious and other permanent communities on partial or ſelfiſh principles, inimical to others or to the whole, and be⯑coming then too powerful to be controlled. The moſt natural ſmaller communities, of which the great one, the nation, conſiſts, are thoſe of families; and you will be cautious of the too great pre-eminence even of any of thoſe, and ſtill more, of admitting of other more powerful aſſociations without proper regulations.

"Of the policy, internal and external, of the different European nations, of which we have ſo often talked, you will be able to learn ſome things. Your wiſe men will collect ſuch parts as are applicable to you, from th [...]ſe nations that have preſerved ſome of their natural liberties, and who endea⯑vour to obey only the laws, and thoſe of their own making: though none of them have been able to accompliſh or execute that plan. You will find that their laws are becoming too numerous and compli⯑cated, and without attaining the object; in⯑conſiſtent, [135] inadequate to the purpoſes in⯑tended, and moſt of them unfit for you. However, you will ſee where they have failed, from which you may learn much, as well as from their leſſer laws of policy and regulation in towns and country.

Nations, and all ſeparate bodies of men, are apt to be unjuſt and cruel to each other. Try to preſerve yourſelves from this, as far as practicable, even in ſpite of the injuſtice and provocation of your neighbouring na⯑tions: mixing much with them by mar⯑riage and commerce, you may then con⯑tribute to reform the world, and incline them all to juſtice and to peace; but by being always prepared for war—I fear it is, at times, unavoidable.

"Perhaps your moſt powerful enemy is your own climate,—too good, too tem⯑perate, and furniſhing too few difficulties to ſtruggle with. The hardy inhabitants of the colder regions have generally ſubdued thoſe of the warmer and more fruitful. You muſt therefore diligently keep up and [136] improve your warlike arts and exerciſes, though you ſhould never go to war. Much may be done in this, by making a proper uſe of your mountains and mountaineers, carefully keeping them united—making but one people with the reſt in govern⯑ment, by intermarriages—employing them in your ſervice—ſending the children of the plains to be brought up and educated among them.

"We muſt continue to make our puniſh⯑ments milder and more certain. The ſenſe of ſhame is powerful. By timely manage⯑ment, even diſgrace may at length be al⯑moſt ſufficient to reſtrain your people, nearly as much as they can be reſtrained; for we muſt always expect ſome vices and weak⯑neſſes:—They are unavoidable, and per⯑haps even neceſſary in the whole of human affairs.

"Parents, aſſiſted by the wiſeſt and beſt among you, will love and educate the youth, or rather encourage and help them to educate themſelves. Nouriſh and exerciſe [137] the habits and paſſions you know to be the moſt neceſſary. Gradually induce them to think, to ſpeak little and well; teach writ⯑ing, numbers, geometry, mechanics, to all, in the eaſieſt and moſt direct manner; theſe you will find applicable to many and eſſential uſes. Then teach them the nature of things, verbally and experimentally, in the ſhorteſt manner, always with a view to utility, as well as to ſatiſfy curioſity. In all theſe you will find the experience and diſ⯑coveries of the European nations of infinite uſe to you, and from them your wiſe men who travel will extract and abridge many uſeful things. Exerciſe and form the judg⯑ment of youth as early as practicable; in this you will find numbers and geometry of great utility. Preſerve the utmoſt freedom in ſpeaking and writing, and you will improve in both, and in every faculty, ſcience, and inſtitution.

Nor muſt you neglect the early know⯑ledge and practice of poetry and muſic. Theſe are the language of the heart, as words form that of the head or underſtanding. You [138] have long experienced the pleaſure, the ſentiments which they inſpire, and begin to perceive how greatly they may yet be im⯑proved and heightened; indeed they may probably be applied to great moral purpoſes.

"Though you very wiſely preſerve your habits of war and diſcipline, as far as prac⯑ticable in peace, beware of going to war, or of conquering more territory; for you have already ſufficient, with cultivation, to maintain ten times your preſent numbers. Perhaps you had better give up part of it, and come to live nearer together, extending again by degrees as you increaſe. You would then more effectually aſſiſt, enlighten, and improve each other.

"A perfect equality will now be more impracticable than ever. You muſt differ in rank, eſtimation, and influence, according to your different degrees of merit, abilities, induſtry, and riches; and then by birth. Only guard againſt the two great and dan⯑gerous inequalities, which you will find ſufficiently difficult:—it may be partly ac⯑compliſhed [139] perhaps by limiting and divid⯑ing inheritances; and by marking well the bounds of the powers you give. No one muſt have power over another more than you may pleaſe by the laws to grant, taking care that even that be always the leaſt that will anſwer the purpoſe. Some public feſti⯑vals might perhaps be inſtituted to good effect, with certain ceremonies, amuſements, and exerciſes, that might ſerve, among other purpoſes, to put you frequently in mind of your original and natural equality, in imitation of ſome former wiſe nations. The inculcating, by a frequent revival, this ſenſe of original equality, is perhaps among the beſt effects of your religion and religious feſtivals.

"The third, and I had almoſt ſaid your moſt important care, will be to regulate the connection between the ſexes.

"On viſiting other countries for informa⯑tion, you will find a great variety of opi⯑nions, of laws and inſtitutions on this matter; and will find the oldeſt and wiſeſt [140] nations as if at a loſs how to conſider the ſex, in what rank to place, or how to em⯑ploy them. You yourſelves have perhaps been among thoſe who are the fartheſt wrong in this, and the wiſeſt and moſt im⯑proved nations cannot ſerve as example [...] to ſet you right: perhaps the ultimate per⯑fection of which ſociety is capable, awaits only the proper and relative employment of the two ſexes. You will therefore, as yet, be cautious of great changes or innova⯑tions, and leave that connection as free as the public order can poſſibly admit; per⯑mitting to all above a certain age, to form what engagements they pleaſe with each other, before the magiſtrate, ſecuring the execution of ſuch contracts, and ſupporting the weaker ſex in thoſe ideas of a natural equality in rights with us, which you have now generouſly admitted; gradually dimi⯑niſhing the former exorbitant authority and ſuperiority of huſbands, and ſupporting the additional influence you have given to pa⯑rents over their children till the age of marriage.

[141]"You will probably find from experi⯑ence, that monogamy and marriages for life, are more convenient and beneficial to the public and to your preſent ſyſtem, than polygamy and temporary engagements. It may perhaps be gradually introduced by ſome encouragement proportioned to the object, better than by compulſory laws.

"The ſafety and education of the off⯑ſpring is what concerns the public moſt; and you may for that purpoſe be forced, in your new ſituation, to lay ſome additional reſtraints and duties on all the parties, on huſbands, wives, parents, children: only let theſe, and every other change, be intro⯑duced gradually, and let them be no more than abſolutely neceſſary to your views, and not merely to indulge the ſelfiſh tyranny of man, which will be apt to increaſe as he advances in arts and luxuries, without ſome timely precautions both in reſtraints and exertions. Human beings will generally become tyrants when not controlled. Laws, for example, made by men for the women, but without conſulting them, will generally [142] be tyrannical. Be not afraid nor aſhamed t [...] give to the ſex their natural and equal ſhar [...] of influence in families, in ſociety, in th [...] ſtate. Let them continue to ſhare in you labours and exerciſes, and to be ſtill manly and ſtrong, and to be above all fooliſ [...] ſhame, and other weakneſſes, when neceſ⯑ſary. Teach them all you know. They will teach your children in their turn, and will be found of great uſe in education, manners, taſte, arts. You already be⯑gin to find them more uſeful and agreeable as companions, aſſiſtants, and counſellors, than formerly as ſlaves and domeſtics.

"You have already ſome women whom you may conſult on any ſubject; and by confidential and proper treatment, you will ſoon render many more worthy of being conſulted. But beware of all extremes: avoid that of your neighbours, who treat the ſex like beaſts of burden; and that of ſome European nations, who promote an over-weening delicacy and refinement that indulges in weak and wild fancies without end, and ſpoils and debilitates [143] both ſexes. There they pretend to love women for their follies and weakneſſes, timidity and bad nerves, over-modeſty and reſerve, all which are almoſt digni⯑fied into virtues; whereas compaſſion is the moſt they can claim. Education will ſoon correct all their defects in know⯑ledge and underſtanding, and habit main⯑tain them in ſtrength, courage, and free⯑dom.

"We are not ſo much to follow, as to aſſiſt, or rather improve upon, nature. Avarice, envy, and the other hurtful paſſions, are not to be cultivated becauſe they are natural. Neither the brutal force and ty⯑ranny of man, nor the natural weakneſs and timidity of women, are to be indulged and increaſed becauſe they are found in human nature. In ſhort, paſſions hurtful or incon⯑venient, are to be repreſſed and modified by education and habit: ſuch is the intent of ſociety. In viſiting the great cities of Europe, and thoſe of Aſia, you will ſee examples of thoſe oppoſite extremes. On your wiſdom will depend the choſing ſome [144] medium or different path. It will be our own faults if the women do not keep up with us, and be found of ſignal uſe to us in almoſt every thing, except perhaps in war; and even there, you are already in the habit of conſulting them: many of them have been known to counſel, and ſome even to command well. But whenever you begin to ſpoil each other, and to refine ſo far as to abhor maſculine or learned women, like ſome in Europe, you will then probably ſoon begin to ſhrink from your duty, civil and military, and fall a prey to ſome other northern nation.

"In the hiſtory of nations, you will ſee how manners and opinions have changed to oppoſite extremes. You may con⯑template Spartan mothers exciting their ſons to war and glory; and ſome modern Euro⯑pean mothers dreading to expoſe theirs— even to the weather.

"The nation that ſhall firſt introduce women to their councils, their ſenates, and ſeminaries of learning, will probably accele⯑rate [145] moſt the advances of human nature in wiſdom and happineſs. You may ſafely give the ſex the lead in every thing that concerns your pleaſures, and they will oeco⯑nomiſe and improve both yours and their own, in a variety of ways which you know nothing of as yet. You will ſoon perceive the importance of their taſte and influence in every thing ornamental; in all the arts which you will now ſee ariſe from wealth and leiſure; in every thing that can produce either ſenſual, or elegant and refined, plea⯑ſures. If you dignify their character by a free and manly education, and keep them to a near reſemblance with yourſelves, they in return will temper and refine your minds and your manners, and without the danger of rendering you, or your ſons, too effemi⯑nate; ſo that you will meet half-way, and, being more alike, and better acquainted than formerly, objects of intercourſe will multiply, and you will be fitter company for each other.

"The powers that are given us by na⯑ture, are certainly intended to be uſed and [146] improved: the proper ways and means ſo as to produce the greateſt happineſs, are left to ourſelves to diſcover and apply, for which the other ſex is a neceſſary party concerned, and our natural counſellors and aſſiſtants. That happineſs muſt conſiſt in the proper uſe and management of the powers of labour, of thought, and of plea⯑ſure; but the application and ſucceſs re⯑quire the joint efforts of both ſexes.

"Continue to go every ſeventh day to your temples in thoſe beautiful groves among your mountains. There, under the direction of your bards, and of your wiſe and good men and women, accompanied by your harps and flutes, rejoice and ſing praiſes to the Great Spirit. There perform your hymns and dances (over which your choſen women preſide by turns) to the me⯑mory of the great and good of both ſexes, whom you have ſo wiſely choſen to com⯑memorate.

"Let that be a day of happineſs, and by ſuch means try to baniſh every contrary [147] practice and idea. Indulge in every exer⯑ciſe and pleaſure that your directors ſhall pronounce to be innocent, and in the forms and manner that they may chuſe to pre⯑ſcribe; and endeavour gradually to aboliſh every other ſuperſtitious practice, and eſpe⯑cially thoſe of a horrid, diſmal, or cruel tendency. The Great Spirit and Governor of the Univerſe cannot delight in your miſery, but in your happineſs.

"You will learn from other nations, and your own practice, to build more beautiful temples, and to adorn them; and will learn more pleaſing ſongs, and improve your muſic:—all within the bounds of ele⯑gant and ſublime ſimplicity. By the wiſ⯑dom of your directors, whom you will im⯑plicitly obey, you will be taught how to be cautious of indulging in the extremes either of ornaments or of pleaſures.

"The ſearch of the beſt, or of truth, in every thing, is an eternal approximation, but which can never terminate in this world; and the way to farther improve⯑ment [148] and diſcovery, muſt ever be left open. As you increaſe your wants, and then come to ſupply them with more eaſe, and then to find time for experiment, reflection, and ſpeculation, you will begin to perceive the importance of ſecuring open and direct roads to truth and knowledge; and you muſt therefore be watchful to prevent any ſet of people from ſhutting any of them up on pretence of the enquiry being finiſhed, and no more to be diſcovered; or on any other pretext.

"I ſhall leave you ſome general direc⯑tions, with ſome laws and regulations for a future period; ſome ſhort hiſtories of na⯑tions that have erred and gone to ruin; the methods of diſcovering uſeful knowledge by means of experiment and mathematics, which you will find of great uſe. But other things muſt firſt be attended to, viz. the ſmaller and domeſtic concerns. The leſſer diviſions of villages and families muſt all be carefully attended to, and be properly placed and employed; and then the larger and natural diviſions of the country by [149] rivers, a certain number of which form the nation. In future times, your laws, civil and criminal, muſt increaſe with your pro⯑perty and improvements; and then will be the important time that will require all your ſkill and wiſdom, and all may prove in⯑ſufficient, as has been hitherto the caſe with moſt nations. There is a period between the rude and civilized ſtate, in which na⯑tions generally ſow the ſeeds of their own deſtruction. I mean to collect all the di⯑rections and remedies I can for you, againſt that period. The firſt and chief precau⯑tion ſeems to be that of reſtraining the buſy ſpirit of legiſlation and regulation that will then ariſe, and that ſeems to ſeize all nations ſo ſoon as they can write and reaſon a little. Let your laws increaſe very ſlowly. Bear long with the evils, and beware of the remedies, till well aſſured of theſe being the leſſer evils. Depend moſtly on education as long as you can.

"By theſe, and ſome other leſſons to be explained, and others which I ſhall leave behind me, this nation may eſcape many [150] of the misfortunes that have befallen others. The directions of one who has ſeen ſo much more of the road you have to go than any of you, may certainly be made of ſervice to the whole; not ſo much in quickening your progreſs, as in directing it aright. That progreſs muſt be ſlow, and requires a certain time; there are ſteps which you cannot overleap; but I may help you to ſhorten the way, and point out the objects to be kept in view for that purpoſe, either in your travels, experiments, or other re⯑ſearches; or in your moral, learned, and poitical inſtitutions."

I told them a great many more particu⯑lars than I chuſe to trouble you with, or can now remember. You may perceive it is incomplete as a ſyſtem, and may think it perhaps incoherent and impracticable. The chief doubt of its practicability proceeds, perhaps, from its being too rational: but we muſt recollect that neither reaſon nor women have yet had their full and proper influence in the world; and till they come nearer to that point, we can only gueſs at their power.

LETTER XVIII. Political Opinions and Advice.

I AM obliged to you for putting me in mind. I did intend to give you ſome more memorandums of this country, moral and political; but as their importance ſeems to diminiſh as our departure approaches, I fear many of them are forgotten.

This Emperor, though of an indolent diſpoſition, like moſt of his countrymen, is nevertheleſs of an anxious mind, a reſtleſs and perpetual negociator; and he means never to let you reſt, more than his own ſubjects: you muſt be always expecting ſome embaſſy, meſſage, or demand from him. When every thing elſe ſeems to be ſettled, he will probably make ſome alteration on your duties, and may double them at once, though you already think them too high. That will occaſion freſh negocia⯑tions, [152] embaſſies, preſents; all of which ſeem to be as the neceſſaries of life to him; and he will generally take care to create motives and occaſions for them.

In dealing with theſe people, there can hardly be any general rule of conduct. They are generally both capricious and de⯑ceitful. We muſt follow them as well as we can, and, like themſelves, go on with temporary ſhifts, and take occaſional mea⯑ſures, as it were from hand to mouth. You have put up with affronts enough to ſhow that you do not mean to quarrel with him, ſo that you muſt expect many more affronts and demands.

He has been more afraid of you than of any other power, which he will not readily forgive. He will probably take every oc⯑caſion to ſhow that you are not now his only friends, as heretofore; and he ſeems highly pleaſed at having eſcaped out of that ſitua⯑tion. He deſired the interpreter to tell me the other day, apropos to nothing, that the pride of the Engliſh is ſoon to be taken [153] down. We know the Bourbons have been telling him ſo, and will be attentive to keep him up in that hope and idea. Indeed moſt nations are now vying with each other for the higheſt place in his favour, and the chief object of all is, to ſupplant us; and they will now eaſily ſucceed. We are all his tributaries. Such is the diſgrace⯑ful policy of the times with regard to theſe piratical ſtates, and which may laſt till ſome event ſhall happen to make us all aſhamed of ourſelves. Nations are not aſhamed to follow each other in the moſt diſgraceful politics, though ſo tardy in borrowing any uſeful art or practice.

Thoſe late treaties of this Emperor with the other Chriſtian powers were ſo un⯑popular here, that it required a great deal of money, and all the arts of a moſt artful and deſpotic prince, to make them go down with the people.

I believe we might, with more ſafety than any other nation, aſſiſt him to improve his force and his country, if that were prac⯑ticable. [154] They would not probably venture to attack us, and would then be better cuſtomers than they can ever be while they remain poor, indolent, and uncivilized. But there are likewiſe times when they ſhould be checked: the remembrance of the laſt war we had with them laſted a long time, and indeed is not yet quite worn out of their memory: it has long helped to keep them in order, and to maintain among them a certain reſpect and dread of the Engliſh navy.

Theſe Moors, though confined in their knowledge, have often great natural ſaga⯑city and penetration, and know a character at ſight, full as well as any of us. Aware of Barbarian cunning, we muſt be con⯑ſtantly on our guard, and be ready to give up, in a moment, the moſt favourite and long-laboured plans or objects of negocia⯑tion, diſconcerted by their penetration, their artifice, or barbarity.

As to their commerce, you may there know it nearly enough. You will ſee it can [155] be of no great importance to us, or to any other nation, except to your garriſon. They have had of late as far as thirty ſhips an⯑nually, moſtly Engliſh, loaded at their weſtern ports. That trade might indeed ſoon be doubled, and trebled, by a better kind of government, and more of your aſſiſtance.

I have had two more converſations with the Prince, and had the good fortune to fix his attention longer than I ever ſaw it fixed before, except to foot-ball, or ſhooting at a mark. Some of his queſtions were curious for their ſagacity, and others for their ſim⯑plicity and ignorance. He believes they are to ſet about conquering Chriſtendom after they have ſettled certain domeſtic affairs; and he has no doubt of ſucceeding, when they can bring all their force to act. I find that, notwithſtanding their cloſe friendſhip with Carlos, they mean ſoon to attack ſome of his fortreſſes.

LETTER XIX. Of the Emperor, his Character, Government, Policy, and their Effects.—Of the Moors, and of national Characters.—Of Juſtice, Government, and State of Society.

THIS Emperor underſtands the Moors perfectly; but his genius or character is not well calculated to make the moſt of theirs. His mode of government, his per⯑petual rapacity, is more diſguſting to them, and perhaps more hurtful to population, and to the neceſſary improvements, than all the cruelty of his predeceſſors. But that is exactly what he means: to impoveriſh and depopulate the country is his object. Deſ⯑potiſm cannot bear the proſperity of its ſubjects, and ſeems to wiſh they all had but one neck, to be cut off at one blow.

A cruel and unfeeling diſpoſition, in both maſter and ſlave, is perhaps the natural pro⯑duce of this ſpecies of government. A [157] much leſs degree of uncertainty in the poſ⯑ſeſſion of property, or of the fruits of their labour, would be ſufficient to damp or repel all the activity and induſtry of men. The ſubordinate members muſt follow the head; and all muſt be rapacious and perfidious. Such, to many people, ſeems to be the character of the Moors, given them by na⯑ture; but it is only the produce of their government. I believe they did not merit this character during their beſt times in Spain.

This Emperor being more humane than moſt of his predeceſſors, and of a different character, perhaps deſerves to be conſidered with more attention. But he means not, as many imagine, to encourage arts and in⯑duſtry, nor military merit, nor any other merit. It is only his avarice that makes him agree to theſe unconſtitutional truces with the Chriſtian powers, which, by open⯑ing the ports for the ſake of duties, has given an appearance of ſome commerce, but which the ſame avarice will again ſoon check or deſtroy by oppreſſion. He is even [158] afraid of any degree of merit or popularity in any of his ſubjects; and when he pro⯑feſſes to eſteem and encourage it, he means only to deceive. He is cunning and artful, probably both from natural character and from long habit; perhaps originally from neceſſity. The degree of that neceſſity we cannot eaſily judge of.

His plan of government, if a ſet of wretched ſhifts and rapacious oppreſſion deſerve the name of plan, is generally ſimple, and has but one object in view; but that he endeavours to conceal, and to ren⯑der his proceedings complex and crooked, without any apparent neceſſity, avoiding all appearance of rule or method, perplexed and myſtical without a cauſe, as if to keep up the habit, or merely for the malicious pleaſure of deceiving.

Though deſtruction is always the object, or the means employed by this kind of government, this man's method of accom⯑pliſhing it is different from thoſe formerly in uſe. The plan or object which he has [159] always in view, is no other than to draw the greateſt part of the money of his domi⯑nions into his own poſſeſſion, which at once ſatisfies his paſſion, and impoveriſhes and weakens the people, that he may govern them the eaſier. And he ſucceeds in it to an amazing degree, conſidering the Mooriſh arts and avarice he has to deal with.

But after all theſe precautions, and the conſequences of extreme internal weakneſs and poverty, we find that ſuch countries are not therefore much leſs ſubject to violent and deſtructive revolutions. It is the vigi⯑lance of the monarch, more than the de⯑bility of the people, which ſaves them from thoſe tumultuous rebellions, and pretenders to the throne, to which they have been formerly ſo much accuſtomed. Their hiſtory is full of perpetual tumults, maſſacres, and civil wars. There has hardly been a peace⯑able ſucceſſion before this, nor ſo long a peace as during this reign, which is cer⯑tainly much to the credit of his preſent Majeſty, and ought to place his name very [160] high in their annals—if they had any body to write them.

Deſolation and miſery, however, ſeem everywhere to increaſe, in ſpite of all their peace and commerce. Whole ſuburbs and villages are gradually falling to ruins. Large tracts of country, formerly occupied and cultivated by M. Iſhmael's black colo⯑nies, lie now in barren waſte. And it ap⯑pears, that the country flouriſhed more under that piratical and mercileſs tyrant, than it does under the humane and com⯑mercial, but avaricious, Cidi Mahomet.

The people are probably right in wiſh⯑ing for war, as it makes them of ſome conſequence to their maſter; and ſuch people may certainly gain more by piracy than they do now by commerce or induſtry. Nay, they are probably incapable of either, beyond a certain degree of what is barely neceſſary to exiſtence. If a country could poſſibly improve under ſuch a government, we ſhould have ſeen here ſome ſigns of it [161] before this, during this peaceable reign, now above a dozen years. This monarch has never, ſince his acceſſion, had any thing to fear; yet he is ſaid, by thoſe who know him beſt, to paſs his time in conſtant fear and anxiety. The nature or turn of his policy and mode of government proceeds from his character; and that you have ſeen formed in his youth, as uſual, by various circumſtances. Long driven about the kingdom with his father, by competitors and rebellion; expoſed to continual dan⯑gers, treachery, and alarms, he ſeems to have acquired an habitual horror of all theſe, and fancies that his ſafety muſt con⯑ſiſt in the miſery and weakneſs of his people. He endeavours to reconcile them to theſe unpopular meaſures of peace, by ſhewing them the guns, mortars, and batteries, which he gains from thoſe Chriſtians, (poor fools!) and by which they themſelves are all to be conquered ſome day or other.

But every ſhip of war that appears on his coaſt he ſees fraught with double danger. In the deſtruction of any of theſe batteries, [162] he fears the maſk would be removed, the people undeceived; and hence rebellion, de⯑throning, &c. and more eſpecially if the ſhips be Engliſh, whom he hates as he dreads. He is obſerved to be very uneaſy, and does not probably ſleep well, during all the time any of our ſhips are on his coaſt.

The Moors, it is true, are quick, fiery, and impatient, treacherous and cruel, and require now to be governed with a rod of iron, which muſt be kept conſtantly in their ſight. When once they begin to riſe, and can find a leader, as in moſt deſpotic countries, they preſently go to all the extremes of deſperate cruelty and deſolation. Some very trifling matter is ſufficient, at times, to ſet them all up in armed confuſion. This was indeed nearly the caſe lately, from a ſhort illneſs of his majeſty: they already began to fancy he was dead, and his death concealed; and he, on hearing that gun⯑powder had ſuddenly riſen to double its uſual price, thought it neceſſary to ſhew himſelf, though ſtill very ill.

[163]A great part of the peculiar character of each people may proceed from climate and particular phyſical cauſes, though it is dif⯑ficult to eſtimate how much; and we ſhall all continue to have different ſyſtems and opinions concerning thoſe things. We know, however, that laws, inſtitutions, manners, and cuſtoms, will in time prevail over thoſe diſpoſitions which we ſuppoſe given by nature; and that the character of a nation, at diſtant periods, may be very different.

We likewiſe find a great reſemblance among very diſtant nations, while in the rude or early ſtages of ſociety. But arts, civilization, and modes of government, lead them often as it were in oppoſite di⯑rections, and preſently create ſtriking differ⯑ences between them. The Greeks, Phoe⯑nicians, Carthaginians, and Arabs, have all been great nations, though of very different characters, and yet were all probably formed from nearly the ſame kind of original ma⯑terials, from people very like theſe Moors. However, theſe African nations ſeem gene⯑rally [164] to have preſerved a certain ſameneſs of character in many points, through all pe⯑riods of their hiſtory. They ſeem always to have conſiſted of the ſame kind of quick and volatile, but weak and combuſtible, materials. As troops, we ſhall find them ſtill the ſame kind of fiery, irregular, deſul⯑tory light-horſe, as the Numidians and Mauritanians probably were in the time of the Romans, if we make allowance for the colouring and dignity of the Roman hiſ⯑torians. They might, even now, ſoon be made capable of powerful ſudden attacks, but not of any great and continued efforts. They could never probably be made to ſupport any ſyſtem of conduct long with ſufficient patience and firmneſs. Oppoſed to a ſteady diſciplined army, their barbarian impatience would ſoon appear, and give to a vigilant enemy deciſive advantages. Na⯑turally ſagacious, quick, and intelligent, they might ſoon be taught, to a certain de⯑gree, how to make uſe of their natural advantages; but all would as ſoon be ne⯑glected and forgotten again, if not kept up by conſtant diſcipline, of which the Maho⯑metans [165] in general are probably incapable; —thoughtleſs and improvident, yet rapaci⯑ous and avaricious: the inconſiſtencies of human nature are every where numerous; in this ſtate of ſociety they are more re⯑markable, and different from thoſe of civil⯑ization. Though frightened into reaſon to-day, to-morrow they forget their danger, and careleſsly return to their former habits, though aſſured they will fail of ſucceſs. Here are no permanent ranks of people or of families, nor difference of manners; all are equally good company. Deſpotiſm brings all to a level, and that level is near the meaneſt of the ſpecies. A government, where all the vices of human nature are the natural produce, muſt create a reſemblance of character throughout the individuals, and between all ſuch countries, however diſtant.

My guide, and protector on this journey, one of the emperor's friends, is now em⯑ployed in preſſing horſes for us, and in let⯑ting them free again, for payment. His toil and induſtry have been amazing in this [166]way, letting no opportunity eſcape him of making a blankil=2½d. The Mooriſh avarice is far beyond ours, and we ſhould think they might therefore be made induſ⯑trious, though now of ſo oppoſite a cha⯑racter. After he has made what he can in this way, then I muſt pay the hire at a very dear rate, which is alſo moſtly his profit; and there is no remedy but pa⯑tience. Juſtice is ſo far from being ready and eaſy here, that people chuſe to ſubmit to the moſt violent outrages rather than apply for it; and now it is only to be had at the capital, from his majeſty, and very uncertain even there. It ſhould not ſur⯑priſe us to find the people ſo bad; it is rather aſtoniſhing they are not worſe. There is leſs robbing on the roads during this reign than formerly, as this monarch will admit of no robbers beſides himſelf, unleſs he is well paid for the li⯑cence, which is yet done ſometimes in par⯑ticular caſes, though not ſo much as uſual. On this principle the baſhaw may pillage what he pleaſes, provided he carries it all to his maſter, for ſharing it with him is [167] not ſufficient. Indeed that reſpectable ma⯑giſtrate generally takes care to purloin a little for himſelf, though he knows it will be taken from him with ſevere puniſhment. In ſhort, it is here where the ſtrong may oppreſs the weak—the Moor may beat and rob the poor Jew, who dares not complain for many reaſons. All ſpoils become lawful when a ſufficient ſhare goes to his majeſty.

Were it poſſible for even a tenth part of the juſtice neceſſary in a great kingdom to proceed from the throne, a rapacious rabble of the friends and attendants of royalty ſur⯑round and intercept it. In ſuch a ſtate there muſt always be more than ſufficient examples of impunity and injuſtice, to en⯑courage many attempts to do evil.

In the rude ſtate, while property is yet inſecure or undivided, certain crimes and vices, as theft or robbery, are not conſidered in the ſame degree of turpitude as among a ſettled and civilized people. Declining na⯑tions are probably worſe, weaker, and more vicious, than thoſe that are riſing, though near the ſame ſtate of ignorance. In the [168] riſing ſtate, they may help one another up; in the other, they pull each other down: ſo where there is the moſt neceſſity for private virtues, for mutual aſſiſtance, there is the leaſt to be found. Friendſhip and fidelity are ſometimes the produce of oppreſſion, which preſſes men as it were cloſer together for mutual aſſiſtance or defence; but when that is once given up and deſpaired of, ſo⯑ciety is in a manner diſſolved; every virtue, humanity itſelf, is deſtroyed; diſtruſt or malevolence breaks all the uſual bonds of union: accordingly we find here hardly any moral ſenſe of right and wrong. We find they all conſider each other as per⯑fectly perfidious.—All wiſh to oppreſs and rob in their turn. They conſider their be⯑ing detected only as a misfortune.

You may well be ſurpriſed how ſociety, in ſuch a ſtate, can exiſt for any time, if it can be ſaid to exiſt as a ſociety; it may be conſidered rather as a ſtate of warfare. All tends here to produce a diſmal kind of un⯑certainty which hangs over life, and ſtifles in embryo almoſt every voluntary exertion, and which brings all to a certain degree of [169] meanneſs, of debility, dejection, or vice— to a ſtate with which we are unacquainted, and which is therefore worth our conſider⯑ing; but that degree is, I think, ſeldom ſo great as might be expected: no principles or moral cauſes ever go ſo far in practice, nor have all the influence which they ſeem, in ſpeculation, calculated to produce. Some diſtant hope of change, or of eſcaping un⯑noticed in the crowd, even the thoughtleſs and inconſiderate nature of men, all help to carry them on, and induce them to hoard up even what they know will be taken from them—to take wives and eſtabliſh families; and to try, as they are hurried on through life, like the flocks on their journey, to ſnatch a mouthful of eaſe or en⯑joyment as they paſs. Happily, many things tend to keep men nearer to an equality in happineſs than appearances indicate.

In ſome of the mountainous parts of this country, where this government does not reach, the people ſeem better, more induſtrious, ſteady, and provident, in their poor little way of life. They have fixed [170] habitations, little cottages and gardens, and in tolerable order; ſo that there muſt be ſome honeſty, good faith, and mutual aſ⯑ſiſtance among them; and hence it is plain, that ſuch a government as this is worſe than none.

A violent and tyrannic government is generally a weak one. It never has in fact half the power it pretends to exerciſe.— Moving by fits and ſtarts, in no ſettled walk or ſyſtem; by turns all violence, or all lethargy; the parts of the confuſed ma⯑chine are not fitted nor ready to obey, ſo that all its efforts ſhew either a waſte or a want of power, and its greateſt exertions tend only to deſtruction. The deſpot can deſtroy, but can ſeldom be obeyed, as he deſires. On ſeeing this emperor's orders often diſputed at his very gates, it gives an Engliſhman pleaſure to recollect that our laws are better obeyed and executed in our remoteſt dominions, than thoſe of the ty⯑rant in his own capital.

LETTER XX. Of ſome Cuſtoms, Arts, Audiences.—Muley Idris.—Religion.—Colonies.—Blacks.— Sea Ports.—Money and Meaſures.—Con⯑cluſion.

YOU know I dread being tedious, and do not wiſh to deal much in particu⯑lars, though I may ſometimes be inſenſibly led into both. I am frequently in doubt if the life and manners of ſuch a people as this deſerve much of our time and attention, though full of great leſſons for govern⯑ments and princes. Many things might, doubtleſs, be found to ſatisfy the hiſtorical curioſity of the antiquarian, but I am look⯑ing only for things of utility, or what I may fancy to be ſuch. We might diſcover here arts, cuſtoms, ſuperſtitions, which might be traced to Aſia, and to the re⯑moteſt antiquity: ſo we may, in various [172] parts of Europe. Such may be the cuſto [...] of preſents, their funerals, and reſpect for th [...] dead, their tools, ornaments, dreſs, recrea⯑tions, ceremonies, domeſtic employments Though the arts and manners of period [...] which we have paſſed and left behin [...] may be more the objects of curioſity tha [...] of utility; yet in the loweſt condition o [...] human nature, we may ſtumble upon ſome⯑thing unexpectedly uſeful, and every ſtat [...] may furniſh matter for inſtructive reflec⯑tion. We were wiſhing the other day tha [...] our Engliſh cooks were to learn here ſome of their oeconomical and ſavoury methods of dreſſing ſome viands and vegetables, in the ſteam of the pot; and that our coun⯑try carpenters and other tradeſmen might learn ſome of their ſimple ways of work⯑ing, and of executing great works with ſo few tools and ſo little aſſiſtance. The moſt poliſhed nations may find ſomething to learn from the moſt ſavage. In the moun⯑tains, and in the country, men make their own ſhoes, furniture, and utenſils, which in the towns is the work of ſeparate pro⯑feſſions. Many ſeem to paſs their time [173] chiefly between ſitting, ſmoking, and ſleep⯑ing, all of which they prolong much be⯑yond what is uſual in Europe. How ſo many can be maintained in idleneſs, and by what labour, of which ſo little is to be ſeen in the country, can only be accounted for from their wants being few.

Sometimes they take fits of riding, which they perform in the other extreme of rude exertion, uſing the poor horſe with a roughneſs and violence fitter for a wild beaſt that they wiſhed to tame, with a bridle and ſpurs of a tremendous and cruel conſtruction, which preſently make his mouth and ſides run with blood. Theſe riding-ſits which they ſometimes take, ſeem⯑ingly a-propos to nothing, they conſider as a kind of war-exerciſe: the moment any of theſe fellows gets upon a horſe, he thinks of ſighting, and begins to go through the motions of it, brandiſhing and attacking in their way, ſo that you would think him half mad. Individually they may be con⯑ſidered as tolerably good light-horſe, or ra⯑ther as materials pour en faire, if they could [174] be brought to any regularity and uniformity in their movements, in ſome of which they are ſingly very dexterous: their methods of attack, with their crooked ſwords, the va⯑riety and frequency of their charges, might be made to have great effect, eſpecially on troops unaccuſtomed to them. I believe General Seidlitz borrowed many of his ex⯑cellent ideas of cavalry from Turks and Tartars, ſuch troops as theſe. They have no idea of any regular drill or exerciſe. They ſometimes fire and throw darts at a mark—generally at an earthen pot or a blown bladder, very near, under fifty yards. But their boar-hunt is a fine manly diver⯑ſion. Their foot-ball, or pallone, as in Italy, is good exerciſe. Some jugglers and ſtory⯑tellers, who exhibit ſometimes to the crowd on a market-day, form the ſum of their public diverſions.

The beſt part of this government is the continuance of the old and warlike practice of the prince or chief appearing frequently among his people on horſeback: it is now become a regular audience or levee two or [175] three times a week; a thing ſo unexpected in ſuch a country. This cuſtom ſerves to check ſo many abuſes, and to keep ſo many people in awe, that I ſuppoſe this kind of government could not go on without it. Under a really great and wiſe prince it might be made the means of doing much good; arts, induſtry, public virtue, might thereby perhaps be conſiderably promoted, all in their own ſimple and direct manner. If it were poſſible for uncontrolled power to be ſteady, uniform, or conſiſtent, in its proceedings; if theſe general orders of the emperor, iſſued verbally at levees, pro⯑ceeded from a wiſe and connected plan, and were firmly carried into execution; they might in time have almoſt the force of laws, and might extend much farther throughout the country, poſſeſſing the great advantages of military orders, in prompti⯑tude and obedience; but, alas! no human individual, and ſtill leſs a ſucceſſion of them, can probably ever be found equal to ſuch a ſituation as his. To do any good ſeems to require all the wiſdom of the moſt en⯑lightened [176] nation.—How little can be done by an ignorant deſpot is eaſy to imagine.

We do not hear of any one who is fit to ſucceed Muley Idris (the preſent emperor's uncle, who is dying), or who can equal him in addreſs, artifice, extortion, or in the ma⯑nagement of the public buſineſs here; ſo that the emperor muſt now have upon his own ſhoulders the whole buſineſs of the nation, which will not therefore be better nor more expeditiouſly done: he cannot delegate power ſufficient for any buſineſs; he has confidence in no man; his truſting this uncle ſo much, ſeemed partly from early habits. His phyſician, your poor Portugueſe doctor, Don Juan, we hear will be in danger if this prince dies; it ſeems it is not uncommon here to put a doctor to death for letting his patient die—if a prince or a great man.

Their money weights and meaſures you there know with their commerce. The ideas of the wiſeſt here on thoſe ſubjects [177] you may be ſure are barbarouſly ignorant; their hiſtory a perpetual variation; ſome⯑times attempting to borrow European ideas, but without even knowledge ſufficient to underſtand or adopt them: indeed to eſta⯑bliſh any thing laſting in theſe matters re⯑quires all the wiſdom and ſtability of the beſt government. But few or none of their cuſtoms can be of much importance to us, where none have a tendency or lead to virtue, which indeed would not only be uſeleſs but obnoxious here, and for which we cannot find there is any term in their language.

The reſpect they pay to the memory of their ſaints might be well, were it for any thing but folly, or rather an artful imbe⯑cility, by which thoſe people enjoy a kind of liberty of doing what they pleaſe, and ſeem to have great influence: their folly, which is generally I believe affected, is con⯑ſidered as a kind of inſpiration; it runs in families—but you know the particulars. Were I writing to one at a diſtance, and leſs acquainted with this country, I might [178] be more circumſtantial, but you are neither diſtant nor ignorant enough to merit a par⯑ticular account of any thing here.

You ſee ſomething like religion; and prieſts ſeem fortunately always to obtain ſome influence over men through all the ſtages of ſociety, and more eſpecially in its earlier periods, for which indeed it ſeems more peculiarly adapted, as a neceſſary ſupplement to the defects of law and order; and it muſt continue to be always a good appendix to the code whenever it can be kept within bounds, or reformed and cur⯑tailed of ſuperfluous power when neceſſary. As the code of laws and modes of educa⯑tion become more perfect, the neceſſity for a ſuperſtitious and all-governing religion probably diminiſhes; and the authority of its profeſſors ſhould be carefully regulated and reſtrained within bounds while it is practicable, and before they gain a head of power not afterwards to be controlled. You know ſome other nations have not been ſo fortunate as ours in this reſpect. Here their religion ſeems to have yet too much [179] influence on their manners, opinions, and conduct; it makes them hate all the reſt of mankind, and occupies too much of their time.

Religious ſanctuaries here ſometimes ſtop the hand of bloody and rapacious tyranny, and tend to leſſen the effects of private re⯑venge, as it is uſual for people to take re⯑fuge there againſt their enemies, who are generally obliged to reſpect them, and ſome⯑times againſt the ſovereign himſelf, though he does not always reſpect them. The effects of them might be of ſome benefit, if they could be made to protect the inno⯑cent and not the guilty, as is pretended; but we know caſes to the contrary, and it is notorious that the guilty have been there protected as in Spain, and that the inno⯑cent have been given up to the ſuperior power of the deſpot, whenever his intereſt or his paſſions required it.

If one of theſe ſaints, by ſome fortunate chain of circumſtances, were to turn out to be a man of genius and information, he [180] might do what he pleaſed with ſuch a people; he might improve, reform, and new-model, the whole nation and its go⯑vernment. The improbability of ſuch a one ever being produced here baniſhes the idea of ſpeculating upon it. But as we become intereſted in our own ſpeculations, we can⯑not help looking forward with a degree of pleaſure, and hope to ſome future period of conqueſt or colonization of this country again from Europe; and yet upon reflec⯑tion we may fear it is ſtill far diſtant. We have not yet, I fear, got near enough to the termination of the long period of ſuperſti⯑tion and fanaticiſm, and we muſt pro⯑bably wait for that of reaſon before ſuch events can be produced. Though the Ma⯑homedan conqueſts and eſtabliſhment are not perhaps ſo firm and intimate here as generally imagined, and might be rather eaſily overturned by certain operations from the north, aſſiſted by colonies from the ſouth; but mankind, during this yet fanatical ^* [181] age, are nowhere ſufficiently qualified and prepared to mix well and intermarry with the natives, nor the natives with them, not even in the countries where they emi⯑grate moſt to each other, though ſuch mix⯑ture is perhaps the only way to ſecure any conqueſt or eſtabliſhment, and to improve the human race. The difficulties generally proceed from their differing in religious opinions. Were it not for the barbarous inveteracy of Mahomediſm, we might hope in time to ſee it wear down by the arts of peace, and give way to the weight of its own abſurdities. Its future hiſtory cannot yet well be foreſeen; it ſeems doubtful if it can ever again become ſufficiently ra⯑tional and tolerant to admit of the neceſſary improvements in arts and government; or if it muſt go in ignorance and barbarity, and at laſt decline by its own corruption and inconſiſtencies, till ſupplanted by ſome new ſyſtem of fanaticiſm. There is no giving Mahomedans any ideas of liberty or good government as yet, for they have no notion of ſovereignty without deſpotic power.

[182]To ſecure and to civilize this country, I believe it muſt be done by military colo⯑nies ſimilar to thoſe of the Romans: I wiſh you could ſearch and find out all the internal police, manners, and management, of thoſe. Let us ſuppoſe ſuch colonization to happen in our time, or that we are go⯑ing to ſet about it: ſuch ſuppoſitions will quicken your diligence. The man who does not frequently build caſtles, plant co⯑lonies, and gain battles, in idea, will not probably ever do any thing of the kind in reality. If I were to have any hand in their formation, I ſhould probably inſiſt upon ſome which may appear to you ſin⯑gularities—I ſhould imitate Penn, and have no ſtate religion, but ſecure a complete to⯑leration and protection to all ſects—I ſhould have more women, and give them more to ſay and to do in ſuch colonies than may correſpond with your ideas of military or even of civil life—I ſhould be for the ſexes living and acting almoſt perpetually toge⯑ther, both in public and private, as the firſt requiſite towards civilization, eſpecially in this country; they ſhould neither eat, drink, [183] dreſs, nor do almoſt any thing without the preſence and aſſiſtance of each other. I think, even with us, the ſexes retiring ſo much from one another ſeldom proceeds from any good motive, and has no good effects; here, their ſeparation is the great impediment to all the advances of the ſpe⯑cies, and one of the many pernicious con⯑ſequences of the ſubordination of one ſex to the other.

The importance of this great continent or peninſula of Africa is obvious, and its being as yet ſo little known or improved is equally ſurpriſing; however, many parts of it are known to be capable of every kind of produce, and may yet again ſupply Europe, &c. with many things better than now by diſtant colonies.

The native and natural race of man throughout this great continent is probably the black, of two kinds, the woolly-headed on one ſide of the peninſula, and the long⯑haired on the other, except thoſe of Atlas and the northern coaſt, where they were [184] probably always white in ſome degree; but theſe have been ſo frequently mixed and colonized from Europe and Aſia, that it is now become impoſſible to diſtinguiſh the indigenous and the different exotics; however, in and about Atlas are the coun⯑tries I ſhould like moſt to explore, if it were poſſible; and I ſuſpect it is not ſo impracticable, nor the inhabitants ſo wild and barbarous, as generally reported and imagined. We might there diſcover many objects of curioſity and of utility—in thoſe of nature and of antiquity—in Roman and Carthaginian remains—in the different lan⯑guages and races of people—perhaps the Punic language. When this country was better peopled and more productive, the communication between the northern and ſouthern coaſts, and with ſome of the in⯑ternal parts, was probably much greater than we yet know or can trace. Carthage poſſibly drew much of her wealth and greatneſs from that ſource. In Tunis, and the country around it, they ſay a ſpirit of commerce and induſtry is ſtill percep⯑tible.

[185]We do not here perceive any reality in the ſuppoſed inferiority of the black race to the white, but often the contrary; ſome of the beſt officers, farmers, workmen, of this empire, and I believe of ſeveral others, have been of that race. All the different colours ſeem to be nearly of the ſame African cha⯑racter, comprehending a variety of tempers and turns of mind as among ourſelves; there may be ſome ſhades of difference, phyſical, and hence moral, ſometimes per⯑ceptible in the humour and temper of mind between the blacks and whites; the black may have rather more of that kind of vola⯑tile ſenſibility, or irritability, which ſeems to attend the human character as it approaches the ſun—warmer, yet weaker: their ſenti⯑ments, though more ardent, ſeem to be more tranſient than ours; and their facul⯑ties, as well as formation, may be ſome⯑what different, but not, I think, beyond the power of habit and education to model and aſſimilate. They may have the advantage in ſome faculties, and the whites in others, and I doubt not but great characters and a great nation might be formed of theſe, as [186] well as of other human beings; but the world wants yet more knowledge and ex⯑perience on this ſubject, and we ſhould re⯑quire much more reſidence and more atten⯑tion to determine any thing in it: this is certainly one of the beſt countries for that purpoſe; here all the various races and co⯑lours of men are nearly on the ſame footing of eſtimation, unleſs they happen to be Jews or Chriſtians, and they may be con⯑ſidered and compared in all the different ſtations that this ſtate of ſociety affords, from the baſhaw or general down to the menial ſlave: in our iſlands and colonies we ſee the blacks only in the ſtate of ſlavery, which produces always a diſtinct and ſimilar character.

The ſea-ports are the moſt eſſential parts of a country: they might have three or four tolerably good here, by a little aſſiſt⯑ance given to nature, at Santa Cruz, Mo⯑godore, Woladia; and perhaps Tangier might ſtill be made a pretty good one, by clearing it, and rebuilding the mole, which might be carried much farther out. If the [187] Chriſtian powers had continued to increaſe and improve their garriſons and ports on this coaſt; they might by this time have ſerved as places of trade and friendly in⯑tercourſe in times of peace, or of aſylum, or as military ſchools, in caſe of war: the people around would have liked them for the ſame reaſons that the people of all the ſouthern coaſts of Spain and Portugal like to have the Engliſh at Gibraltar.

But this government can never probably be ſufficiently ſettled to undertake or finiſh any public works that require much time; hardly any of theſe emperors have of late been able to finiſh even a houſe to live in. This one mounted the throne with the rare advantage of having no competitor, being an only ſon; an advantage which his ſuc⯑ceſſor, whoever he may be, will not likely enjoy: his more ſavage ſons may probably vie with each other for the ſucceſſion, as uſual, and again drench the country in blood, and in all the horrors of a civil war.

[188]Such are ſome of the obſervations and ideas that have occurred of the condition of mankind, on examining and comparing the people of theſe and other regions— of their arts, ignorance, opinions, manners, characters, prejudices. If ſome of them lead to concluſions different from received opinions, it is not my fault; I do not purpoſely ſet up for being ſingular. If you find any thing to correct or oppoſe, pray do it—through the variety of conteſted opinions lies the road to truth. Among other conſiderations that theſe may ſuggeſt to you, I think there may be perceived, in travelling ſouth from Dover to Morocco, a curious line of the gradual progreſſion of deſpotiſm—a ſpecies of government, of which it is to be feared ſome princes are apt to form too high an opinion; it may be well to ſhew them its conſtant and ever pernicious effects. Such might be, among the great and beneficial objects of travel, [189] worthy of your young princes when of a certain age, and I muſt confeſs an ardent am⯑bition to be of the party, becauſe I think I might be uſeful. As you intend, in caſe of that event, to get out of the circle of Eu⯑ropean manners and ideas, in order to take a more enlarged view of nature, of men, and things; in the Mediterranean part of your tour, you might here, and at other places, give them a curſory view of this ſpecies of government, which is full of in⯑ſtructive leſſons to all, but more eſpecially to princes. A nearer inſpection might ſerve to increaſe their abhorrence of it. The temperate and virtuous Spartans could read of drunkenneſs, as we do of deſpotiſm, but they choſe to ſhew it to their children.

LETTER I. Of firſt Impreſſions and Objects of Travel.— Men and Things.—Governments.—Truths of Importance.—Reading inſufficient.—Of the French.

WE are always ready enough to be⯑lieve our own diſcoveries of im⯑portance, and are eaſily perſuaded that the reſult of our labours and experience may [192] be of ſervice, at leaſt to our friends. You are probably right in conceiving that I re⯑quire ſome encouragement. Your flatter⯑ing requeſt and remarks tend to raiſe theſe of mine into ſome new conſequence in my own eyes, and may induce me to take more pains in future, and endeavour to retain for you ſome more of thoſe firſt impreſſions as a traveller, which, I agree with you, are not always the worſt, nor the leaſt worth pre⯑ſerving.

Of the different countries I viſit, I have neither time nor intention to trouble you with much of the preſent faſhionable ſtyle of minutiae in natural hiſtory or antiquities, nor to give you an itinerary catalogue of all the ſights to be ſeen. Without ſome object or principle in view, the daily accumulation of little facts and particulars tends only to increaſe the perplexity and confuſion, or to enlarge the hoards preparing for future and uncertain theories, which may yet long con⯑tinue to ſucceed each other, and to perplex mankind before they arrive at the truths of importance. I like beſt the theory or ſyſtem [193] which is formed on the ſpot, with the knowledge of the facts; thoſe framed in our cloſets are generally wrong. Of the two claſſes of objects in this world, men and things, I think the latter occupies too much the attention of travellers, to the neglect of the former, which is certainly the moſt important.

We have only to look round us in a few different countries to ſee that on govern⯑ment and legiſlation depends the greateſt part of the happineſs of mankind; and yet theſe important objects ſeem now the leaſt attended to by our modern travellers; nay, they are in ſome danger of being entirely excluded, under the now diſgraceful name of politics, from our catalogue of ſubjects of enquiry. The ſages of antiquity—an Herodotus, a Pythagoras, a Lycurgus— thought otherwiſe; to obſerve the laws, conſtitutions, and manners, of other coun⯑tries, in order to improve their own, were then thought to be motives of travel worthy of the wiſeſt and greateſt men.

[194]In ſhort, I am habitually inclined to con⯑ſider man as always the firſt object of at⯑tention, and other things in ſome propor⯑tion to their connection with him; not that I intend to attempt any thing like a complete account of any nation or people: A few ſhort ſketches and reflections on the men or things, as they may chance to ſtrike me where I travel or reſide, I mean to con⯑tinue; and with as much caution as prac⯑ticable againſt natural or habitual prejudices, I mean to attempt at once to give you ſuch truths as may ſeem to me of importance enough for your notice and mine—life be⯑ing too ſhort to form voluminous collections of little facts, and wait for the concluſions of philoſophers thereon. If I can ſome⯑times ſucceed in pointing out the right road or proper object to be purſued in travelling, I ſhall not think my labour loſt.

We need not fear that the ſubjects for obſervation are yet nearly exhauſted: you future travellers may comfort yourſelves that much real information is yet to be ga⯑thered even in the moſt beaten paths of [195] your predeceſſors, and you may know that nations have hardly begun to learn wiſdom of each other, and that none of them are yet ſufficiently acquainted, mixed, and con⯑nected, to be much benefited by their re⯑ſpective improvements; but as they mix and become more intimately united, the better it will be for the whole; ſo that we are every way encouraged and invited by nature to travel and mingle with each other, and this is much better than reading about one another in books, from which I wiſh you to beware of expecting too much; they may direct you to uſeful and real knowledge, but can ſeldom ſupply its place; on them may be built a large and neceſſary part of the ſtructure of education, but not the whole, as ſome of our learned I fear are too apt to imagine: to know, we muſt ſee at leaſt: in many things reading will give but imperfect ideas, and particularly in ob⯑jects of ſight.

Of the French nation I ſhall give you only a few remarks en paſſant. Stationed in the centre of the civilized world, their [196] character, hiſtory, and their influence, are too generally known and felt to require much more illuſtration—they are as yet better known to you than you to them. Small as the diſtance is that ſeparates the two nations, in the firſt boat you may ob⯑ſerve upon their coaſt, may be ſeen the great difference between the two races of people, and that difference appears, eſpe⯑cially at firſt, to be much in favour of our countrymen. The Engliſh ſailors who na⯑vigate our veſſels are ſtrong, ſilent, labori⯑ous, methodical; thoſe on board the French veſſels and boats are a poor, weak, and ragged race, wrangling and buſtling, rather than working, with great noiſe but little ſkill, the effects not correſponding to their apparent exertions. On examining the workmanſhip and materials of every thing about them—of their veſſels, utenſils, cloth⯑ing—we may already draw concluſions of the inferior ſtate of the uſeful arts and in⯑duſtry of France. Nor do we find reaſon to change our opinion on going a-ſhore— whether we inſpect the town or country, the ſhops, houſes, offices, the fields, fences, [197] carriages, cattle, or their different tradeſmen at work, the Engliſh ſuperiority is every where manifeſt in all kinds of workman⯑ſhip, and more particularly where ſtrength is required either in the work or work⯑men.

Generally bad mechanics, they can ſel⯑dom make any thing ſtrong without mak⯑ing it clumſy, nor contrive any machine to anſwer different purpoſes without making it too complicated. And it ſeems as if all the bad materials of Europe came to the French market, as iron, timber, leather, tools, and various matters for different trades and ma⯑nufactures. Indeed the London market, I believe, engroſſes the beſt of the produce in many things throughout the commercial world. You may ſee in our friend B.'s books the difference he makes in the price of inſurance between a French and an Engliſh ſhip.

I ſee neither truth nor wiſdom in preach⯑ing the doctrine that one ſometimes hears [198] maintained of late, by ſome young men, that their ſeamen are every way equal to ours.

In ſome caſes we may ſtill think our pre⯑judice not ill founded, of one Engliſhman being equal to two Frenchmen. I already know ſeveral trades, in which the work commonly done is at leaſt in that propor⯑tion. I think they are evidently a more feeble race, and do not probably exert the ſtrength they have, equal to our workmen. But they have far more vivacity, cheerful⯑neſs, and good humour—a reſtleſs activity, and may ſeldomer be inclined to idleneſs than Engliſh workmen, though their la⯑bour is leſs productive. They ſeem not ſo much engroſſed by their work as in haſte to have done. They generally employ more hands than we do to the ſame kind of work. You know the example of three men to fix a horſe-ſhoe, which with us is done by one.

With theſe prepoſſeſſions, ſo readily ſug⯑geſted by firſt appearances, and perhaps a [199] little out of humour with ſome unexpected troubles and difficulties in getting what we want, which is not uncommon here, we may require ſome time to become ſuffici⯑ently cool and impartial to perceive what is really good or worthy of imitation. You may not, for example, at firſt attend to their excellent police—to their ſpacious and ſuperior manner of building, though badly finiſhed—to their polite and agreeable man⯑ner—to their eaſy and ſimple ways of con⯑triving in ſome of the conveniencies and common modes of life—and to the habits of oeconomy which our children may learn. The ſmall expence and trouble attending their dreſs, ſocieties, balls, theatres, we find very comfortable and pleaſant.

I think we can already perceive that, not⯑withſtanding their poverty and weakneſs, they may be a happier people than we. They fortunately think they have every thing comme il faut, while we, ſullenly wiſe and profound, are diſcontented with much of our own, and with ſtill more of theirs. [200] We pretend to find among them many things deteſtable, much below, and very little above, mediocrity, except their own conceit of themſelves, which, perhaps hap⯑pily for them, paſſes all ordinary bounds.

The diſtinguiſhable races of people, as if yet unmixed, to be met with in neighbour⯑ing countries, forms a curious ſubject of ſpeculation. Each name, clan, diſtrict, or family, eſpecially if diſtant from any capital or commercial intercourſe, preſerves a phy⯑ſical and moral character, diſtinct and vi⯑ſible. To inveſtigate the cauſes of theſe characteriſtic diſtinctions might be curious, and perhaps uſeful. If we could with cer⯑tainty decide on what it may depend, differ⯑ent races of human beings might be bred for different purpoſes. Some whole races ſeem born for the ſword, and others for the pen, commerce, politics. If we could take as much pains with the human race as we frequently do with that of our horſes, we might probably ſucceed as well.—We might have military colonies of mountaineers, and [201] a particular breed of men for each profeſſion of importance.

As to bodily ſtrength, I think the Engliſh make or figure is generally more favourable to it than that of the French. The greater length of back or of the body in the latter, I conſider as a cauſe of weak⯑neſs. I know not if our friend J. Hunter, or any anatomiſt, has made comparative diſſections of different nations, or if the French have a vertebra more in the back than their neighbours. This may appear jocular, but we know the reality and the effects of this deficiency of ſtrength, in their troops, on various occaſions, as during a long march or campaign. Perhaps that difference of bodily figure and proportions may be aſcribed to their method of ſwath⯑ing their children, together with poorneſs of food. Not only the quantity, but like⯑wiſe the nutritive quality, of both animal and vegetable food are I believe generally inferior, in a ſtate of poor cultivation; and it does not then produce that ſtrength and [202] vigour of body or mind neceſſary to exer⯑tion. Poverty, or want of capital, like⯑wiſe prevents their attempting improve⯑ments in agriculture. So that weakneſs and inability, like many other evils, tend in various ways to perpetuate themſelves.

LETTER II. Of Prepoſſeſſions.—French Regulations.— Their Induſtry, Character, Separations.— Size and Forms of Government.—Uni⯑formity.—Tyranny.

NOtwithſtanding what our very faceti⯑ous travellers may write, I do not find that many of us get ſo very ſoon into good-humour with every thing we find, good or bad, or ſo very readily leave all our old habits and prejudices at home. We have been to Paris, Bourdeaux, &c. by one road, and returned hither by another. As the countries we have paſſed through are pretty well known, I ſhall only trouble you with a few general obſervations.

As we advance into France, we find our⯑ſelves interrupted and teazed with multi⯑tudes of new orders and regulations; each town, each claſs, each province, and in [204] ſhort every ſpecies of public buſineſs, we can preſently perceive to be overloaded with regulations, and with people to ſee them executed. There is not only over-regula⯑tion, but perpetual differences in the man⯑ner. Every day's journey produces ſome new variation. What is right here, is wrong a few leagues hence; and we may be ſearched and ſubjected to freſh diſputes and difficulties almoſt every day we travel. But theſe, and ſuch peculiarities, you pro⯑bably know from other travellers, and can diſpenſe with my being more particular.

There ſeems to be in human nature a ſtrong propenſity to legiſlate, and to mul⯑tiply laws even in thoſe ſituations where none of real conſequence or utility can be made or executed. Does the French go⯑vernment mean by this falſe diſplay of in⯑effectual law and regularity to deceive or to torment us and their own ſubjects? Is it to magnify their public wiſdom and po⯑licy? It ſtrikes us that many of theſe very regulations tend to impede the buſineſs they are profeſſedly eſtabliſhed to promote.

[205]With ſuch ſhackles on internal commu⯑nication, how can they ever become a com⯑mercial people? and commerce appears now to be the univerſal object of national ambition. And how they got to their pre⯑ſent degree of induſtry (which is above me⯑diocrity), is not eaſily explained. Their ſingular character will hardly account for it all. To be ſure, that happy but unfeel⯑ing flow of ſpirits which makes them eaſy under every ſpecies of adverſity, even under ſlavery itſelf, and which we are often at a loſs whether to admire or deſpiſe, carries them farther on, and produces more exer⯑tion under the worſt kind of government than any other people we know. They can exert themſelves after repeated diſap⯑pointments to a very conſiderable degree, without any freſh encouragement or ſecu⯑rity. They ſeem eaſily and willingly de⯑ceived by a ſhew of law, of forms, and tribunals, into a hope of ſecurity; and this actually produces many of the effects of reality, whenever their government is wiſe enough to conceal for any time the claw of [206] its power—not that I think now quite ſo highly of their induſtry as I did at a diſ⯑tance. In that, as in ſeveral other things, they have contrived to get a greater repu⯑tation than they deſerve. By increaſing the difficulties to export their produce, and to communicate mutual aſſiſtance between the provinces, their government has ſet bounds to their natural activity. For thoſe things which cannot be carried to market will either ceaſe to be made, or only that quan⯑tity will be produced which is ſufficient for a ſmall conſumption at home, and near it.

This tormenting ſeparation of provinces, and difference of laws within the ſame kingdom, ſeems to be eſtabliſhed or con⯑tinued on purpoſe to divide and govern, and perhaps to impoveriſh, in the true ſpirit of deſpotiſm, which is too apt to adopt ſuch timid and inſidious policy.

The French provinces were, you know, anciently ſo many independent ſtates, now conſolidated into one great monarchy; but [207] that junction ſtill remaining ſo incomplete leaves room for the above ſuſpicions.

Moſt princes have now ſufficient power, if they were willing and active enough, to introduce an uniformity of good laws throughout their dominions; and its not being done, indicates too plainly ſome ſiniſ⯑ter deſign or careleſs indifference.—Uncon⯑trolled power is naturally ſubject to both.

The few attempts that have been made in France towards that uniformity I believe you will find, by their hiſtory, have wanted both ſincerity and perſeverance. Nor have they ever gone far enough in the laborious work of reformation to know the difficulties of it, for theſe are always great and nu⯑merous. Rome, even in the time of Caeſar, was, you know, incapable of liberty. Their ancient character, manners, and conſtitu⯑tion, were together irrecoverably loſt; and this I ſuſpect may be the caſe with France ſince the loſs of their conſtitution, and of all the habits and principles of their freedom.

[208]On the proper diviſion of the world into nations of a proper and govern⯑able ſize, probably depends much of the improvement of mankind. We have ſeen the too ſmall and the too large equally incapable of duration and of advance⯑ment—the one unwieldy, and the other too weak. The Roman empire became too extenſive, and had never probably, except at firſt, a form of government well ſuited to its extent. The numerous unequal pieces into which it was afterwards broken, were too ſmall and unſubſtan⯑tial to laſt long. The various attempts that have ſince been made to re-unite ſome of them, have ſeldom as yet ſucceeded in re⯑moving the ill effects of that diviſion, which may yet produce much miſchief before men can diſcover and get into the right ſize, as well as the right forms, of government. As to the form, I think they might learn more from England than from all the reſt of the world, if nations could again get into the way of learning and borrowing laws and inſtitutions from their neighbours, like the ancient Greeks. Where any freedom of [209] enquiry exiſts, they may go on by degrees to learn; and as the people open their eyes and ſee their chains, they may make vari⯑ous efforts for relief, but they are hardly any where, except chez nous, as yet ſuf⯑ficiently informed to know even their ob⯑ject, and ſtill leſs the road to it.

The general ideas of law, juſtice, go⯑vernment, here, after all their fine writings upon it, are yet too ſlaviſh, confuſed, or in⯑adequate; and this will probably appear in their future attempts to reform. Were they even to have their états generaux re⯑ſtored, with their preſent inadequate ideas of repreſentation and elections, heated with ſome wild impracticable American ideas of liberty, they would probably run into ſome pernicious extreme, or would perpetually diſagree both in the ſyſtem and the means. Ages of experimental enquiry, and of li⯑berty gradually acquired, are probably ne⯑ceſſary to know the right plan, and as much more to put it in execution.

Modern tyranny, though more gentle, is not perhaps much leſs oppreſſive than the [210] ancient, and probably more timid and in⯑dolent. Whatever may favour that indo⯑lence, and facilitate the ruling and draining their ſubjects, will be adopted by ſuch a government, in preference to any thing that would make them rich and happy, leſt they ſhould become inſolent when ill treated.

Happily for mankind, arbitrary power often defeats its own purpoſes; and in proportion as it deviates from honeſty and ſimplicity, creates to itſelf trouble and diſ⯑appointment. By experience it ſometimes diſcovers that theſe animals, the people, muſt at leaſt be fed as they work, and in proportion to the uſeful exertions to be ex⯑pected from them; and hence often ariſe a number of overwiſe regulations for that purpoſe; but, though better than nothing, none of theſe proviſional regulations are equal to the ſimple one, of letting them feed themſelves from their own labour. For this end, protection and ſecurity are ſuffi⯑cient. The leſs government interferes in the detail of domeſtic oeconomy of the ſubject, the better.

[211]That of governing too much is perhaps one of the worſt, and yet the moſt common, faults of modern policy; and one of its worſt effects, and which ſeems to be the leaſt noticed, is, that in the progreſs towards ſlavery the people gradually loſe their powers and exertions, and at length be⯑come ſo weak as to look up to government for almoſt every thing, and even perhaps at laſt like children to be fed.

Here government, or the king, is already ſuppoſed and expected to do every thing that concerns the public or any part of it. Such things as with us are done by townſhips or counties, by individuals or ſubſcriptions, as roads, canals, ſea-ports, piers, ſtoring up proviſions, regulating prices; even ſtage-coaches, it ſeems, cannot be tolerably eſtabliſhed but by his majeſty becoming proprietor. In other countries trade ſupports the ſtate; in this the ſtate muſt ſupport trade: every trifling thing here requires the hand of govern⯑ment.

LETTER III. Of Agriculture.—The People.—Their De⯑cline, and Importance.

EXCEPT in the wine countries, we meet with little elſe but corn-huſ⯑bandry; no proportional number of cattle nor a graſs farm to be ſeen, though theſe are probably the life and ſoul of agricul⯑ture. In the proper number of animals to labour, to manure, and to feed upon the land, probably conſiſts the main ſpring and force of agriculture, which improves with population; and thence may proceed the greateſt and beſt kind of national wealth, ſtrength, and proſperity, and which by ſuch means may yet be carried to an extent hitherto little known and leſs practiſed, ex⯑cept perhaps in ſome parts of China, of the low countries, and near ſome towns.

The few cattle they have throughout moſt parts of France are too generally but [213] miſerable carrion. The horſes, the oxen, the ſheep, all ſeem of a poor degenerate race, and all of the ſame kind—no va⯑riety nor croſs breeds of them, as in Eng⯑land.

Animal life in general does not appear to be in a condition of much vigour or energy throughout this kingdom, till we begin to leave it and aſcend the mountains by which it is bounded on either ſide—the Alps or Pyrenees; or till we enter the rich plains of Flanders, where we find more ſize and ſtrength, although becoming groſs and heavy.

Their corn countries are moſtly large, naked, melancholy plains, without trees, fences or diviſions, and thinly inhabited by a poor, weak, and ſickly race, too often in rags and wooden ſhoes: thus the labouring and moſt uſeful part of the nation is con⯑ſidered and treated with rigour and con⯑tempt. The term peuple, ſo far from con⯑veying ideas of reſpect, greatneſs, benevo⯑lence, [213] or importance, ſeems here a term of reproach. The phraſe majeſty of the people, borrowed from the ancients, and which you read in their authors, is nevertheleſs unfelt and unknown, except among a few ſecluded philoſophers.

Is it not to be apprehended that the Engliſh people may likewiſe in time loſe that reſpect and influence which they have been accuſtomed to aſſert, though ſometimes with inſolence, unleſs it be more aſſiduouſly ſupported by wiſe regulations? On their conſequence being kept up, with all its in⯑conveniences, probably depends moſt of your national ſuperiority. That ſuperior ſpirit of exertion, of induſtry, and enter⯑priſe, in which they go beyond any other people I know, probably proceeds from a certain noble opinion of themſelves, and of their own importance. Perhaps nothing but the other two branches of the legiſlature being obliged to court the people, could ſo long have preſerved their importance in the ſtate.

[215]But are there not certain degrees of cor⯑ruption and debility, a gradual change of manners, and hence of government, which neceſſarily attend a high ſtate of civiliza⯑tion, and which may ſink them to a level with their neighbours, unleſs ſome means can be found to counteract them? Different degrees of arts and civilization may require different laws and regulations. The ſpirit of liberty muſt be proportionate to times and circumſtances. The ſame ſpecies of freedom and licentiouſneſs that might have been formerly neceſſary, and the few regu⯑lations and reſtraints that were found to be ſufficient, may not be ſo now. And un⯑leſs you arrange and regulate the people better, for both civil and military purpoſes, and thereby ſecure their importance in the ſtate with proper ſubordination, they may, through anarchy, fall into the ſame kind of languid impotence and contempt with moſt of the people throughout the reſt of the world; and the weight, the ſuperiority of your nation will fall with them.

[216]The miſchievous anarchy of the demo⯑cratic ſpirit might certainly be obviated by wiſe regulations, and without loſing its be⯑neficial effects.

One would ſometimes be tempted to believe even our government capable, at times, of a certain ſiniſter policy, of leav⯑ing the people in a ſtate of confuſion, that they may, by their exceſſes, bring themſelves and their cauſe into diſgrace; and that our different parties too often tacitly agree in that neglect, or ſecretly im⯑pede the neceſſary remedies. Is this mere⯑ly for the chances furniſhed to the fiſhing in troubled waters? A miſerable deſperate game! However, you ſtand a noble in⯑ſtance to ſhew, with how little force and coercion a people may be governed. Yet your wiſeſt ſovereigns have probably made the moſt arrangements, and had always thoſe eſſential points of defence and police at once in view; but they did not, as here, ſo heavily over-burden the people with ſuperfluous and oppreſſive regulations. Such were your Alfreds and Elizabeths; [217] and it is probably ſtill to the prince you are to look up, for the only effectual poli⯑tical remedies to the evils that threaten you. You can never expect your people nor your parliaments to reform themſelves. You ſhould try by education to form a Lycurgus (if it be poſſible for theſe modern and civilized times to produce ſuch a prince); I ſee no other remedy for you, if you are in danger. But, for all your loud complaints and apparent confuſion, it may be doubted if any great reform be yet ne⯑ceſſary in your government or conſtitution, though neither are perfect. The evils are not yet probably come to that height as to riſk the poſſible evils of any conſider⯑able change; and perhaps no great re⯑form is practicable, without ſome violent ſhock or neceſſity, ſome public danger or diſtreſs.

Be not ſo afraid of the exertions and interruptions of war. If it can be ma⯑naged with tolerable prudence and oecono⯑my, it may produce more reform than a long peace, which is too often but a gra⯑dual [218] decay. War may force you to re⯑gulate yourſelves for defence; by which certain points of internal police may be obtained, which might otherwiſe long remain neglected.

LETTER IV. Of Government.—French Impediment to Im⯑provement.—Their Lands, Cattle, Farm⯑ing.—Of Flanders.

THE circumſtances of the times, and of this journey in particular, muſt, I ſee, inevitably give a political turn to this correſpondence; and as I cannot have much new information to give you con⯑cerning this country, I may therefore in⯑dulge in a variety of ſpeculations as things occur to call them forth. The poverty and oppreſſion of the lower claſſes, the injuri⯑ous diviſion of property, in this and many other countries, produce a variety of re⯑flections on the fate of man, on the ma⯑nagement of ſociety, &c.

Is there no kind of government yet diſ⯑covered that can be eſtabliſhed on prin⯑ciples of gradual improvement, inſtead of [220] going in a contrary direction? No one that ſhould keep pace with the advances of men in the other arts? For all, or moſt of thoſe that have hitherto been ſeen in the world, ſeem, by degrees, to degenerate from the time of their firſt inſtitution, or ſubſequent revolutions, each of which ſeems to contain the ſeeds and neceſſity of others.

I wiſh to believe our government im⯑proving, but am often in doubt. In your Houſe of Commons there appears, in the operation of Mr. Grenville's Bill, a ſmall ſource of amendment; gradual, and there⯑fore proper for a time of peace. This may, at length, prepare the way for more important and ſalutary reformation, pro⯑vided you can preſerve and profit by it, before more miſchievous defects overtake you. Seizing the opportunity of improving the mode of election in your boroughs as they miſbehave, may have ſome good ef⯑fects on the conſtitution; and it may re⯑ſtrain the daring ſpirit of corruption within the bounds of decency, and make them at [221] leaſt pretend to honeſty: the neceſſity of concealing a crime muſt tend to impede and diminiſh it. If the wiſdom and virtue of the nation could once be collected in its councils, great and beneficial meaſures might no doubt be adopted. The people ſelling their votes ſhews that thoſe votes are worth ſomething, and the price may ſerve as an eſtimate of their importance. But in ſuch a ſyſtem of corruption, how long they can retain thoſe votes to ſell, and how ſoon they may be brought to ſell the right itſelf, are queſtions of import⯑ance.

But to proceed with our French journey. On looking over my journal, I find the chief part of the travelling notes turn upon agriculture,—on different trades in towns and villages,—price of labour; in all of which the ſtriking circumſtance is, that government, on every occaſion, and in every reſpect, too much interferes.

Many letters might be written on each of theſe ſubjects, by thoſe who love to be [222] particular and voluminous. But I deal in generals, and love brevity; and you poſſeſs the uſeful arts in England to a more perfect degree; ſo that there is little to be learned here, but from their faults.

You may partly know, from various au⯑thors, how the progreſs of agriculture, and the other uſeful trades that are connected with it, have been obſtructed here by a variety of cauſes beſides thoſe of ſuperflu⯑ous and oppreſſive regulations: but to in⯑veſtigate thoſe cauſes on the ſpot, may b [...] the moſt important leſſon to be learned i [...] this country. I think they may moſtly b [...] traced to the nature of their governmen [...] and taxation, to their religion, laws, man⯑ners, and character. The chief of theſ [...] cauſes may be, Arbitrary power, which probably muſt inevitably be often tyran⯑nical and unjuſt; their bad tenures, and want of long leaſes, few exceeding three ſix, or nine years; the few proprietors o [...] the land have been obviouſly the dictator [...] of all the laws concerning it, and their in⯑tereſt always preferred to that of the many [223] who live and labour on it: hence the poverty and want of farmers, the lands being generally cultivated in metairies, or by hired labourers, who pay or receive a certain proportion of the produce. Their taxes are injudicious and oppreſſive, in the arbitrary manner of laying and of levying them; ſome on the apparent ſtock of the tradeſman, farmer, or labourer, and often laid by thoſe who levy it. Entails, parti⯑cular privileges and exemptions in favour of the nobleſſe and the church: temptations held out to their natural vanity, which prevent the neceſſary accumulation of capitals by induſtry. All run to buy titles or privileges as ſoon as they can; while theſe at once feed their vanity, and give them more power and conſideration than wealth and induſtry, they will probably continue to prefer mediocrity, or even poverty and dependance, with a title, to the condition of rich and comfortable tradeſmen or merchants; and their govern⯑ment goes on to encourage this diſpoſition. Hence the poverty of the lower claſſes, and the want of taſte in the higher for an in⯑duſtrious [224] or a country life. Some think the church the beſt landlords; they may not be the worſt, and are perhaps too in⯑dulgent; but we have only to look at their lands, and ſee that they do not improve beyond a certain, rather low, degree; while thoſe eſtates that have been ſeculariſed in other countries are improving daily, and have doubled and trebled in value ſince they were taken from the church.

I believe I mentioned to C— their childiſh vanity, and perpetual deſire of ſo⯑ciety and amuſement, which draws them together into towns, and helps greatly to prevent their acquiring a taſte for the coun⯑try. May not we conclude that this go⯑vernment does not know, or does not chuſe to apply, the true principles of national proſperity? and yet the world is full of their writings on thoſe ſubjects.

The corn countries of France are moſtly, I think, what we ſhould call a light ſoil, not much ſtrong clay, or rich mould, nor what we ſhould eſteem a fine country. [225] Though there is, perhaps, leſs waſte land than in England, I do not think that their ſoil in general is ſo far ſuperior to ours as ſome imagine; but it would require much time and examination to determine ſuch points with any certainty. We muſt, how⯑ever, except ſome parts of Normandy, Burgundy, and generally the land on their great rivers, eſpecially on the Loire, which is beautifully wooded, a rich and produc⯑tive ſoil, and well peopled. Indeed moſt of their wine countries are rich and beauti⯑ful, though not in our ſtile of beauty.

The ſcarcity of cattle, of paſture land, and of the cultivation of artificial graſſes every where, ſufficiently ſhew their defici⯑ency in huſbandry; unacquainted with the advantages of a change of crops, and of a ſufficient ſtock of cattle, of converting arable to paſture, and the reverſe: I believe that the ſame crops of eternal corn, with perpetual plowings, muſt not only im⯑poveriſh but pulveriſe the ſoil, increaſe its natural dry and light quality, and render it unfit for graſs or meadow, without more [226] expence, labour and ſkill, than the pro⯑prietors could furniſh. The few whom I have ſeen attempting to turn ſome lands to graſs for Engliſh race horſes, their preſent paſſion, have not yet ſucceeded well, after ſeveral years experience and great expence. I want your intelligent tradeſmen to viſit other countries; a travelling farmer might be of more ſervice to his country, than all your gentlemen of learning and virtù who run through Europe ^*.

But I ſhould perhaps have ſaid ſomething about Flanders before we proceed farther; though ſo near, I think it is not ſo well known as it deſerves ^†. Theſe two neigh⯑bouring countries, France and Flanders form a curious contraſt; the firſt being re⯑markable for poverty and naſtineſs, and the other for wealth and neatneſs, with other [227] ſtriking differences. I do not find the decay of the Flemiſh towns, nor of their trade, to be ſo conſiderable as generally be⯑lieved. Thoſe towns are yet noble, vene⯑rable, wealthy, and induſtrious, and their country the beſt cultivated of any in Europe; all this, with the freedom and happineſs of the people and their govern⯑ment, render it altogether more worthy our attention perhaps than France. We owe a particular attention to that country from whence we had, probably, both the loom and the plough, with other uſeful arts, and where agriculture is ſtill kept up to perhaps a more uſeful degree of perfec⯑tion than even in England itſelf: they may not have ſo great a proportion of fine parks, fine horſes, and variety of cattle as we have, but they have enough, and only for utility; and throughout whole provinces, have neither fallow, common, nor waſte land.

The ſpacious Schelde, and beautiful ro⯑mantic Maiſe, you muſt ſee, and particular⯑ly the latter, where you will find all the [228] means and the materials of riches and in⯑duſtry, woods, coals, mines, people: the trade and navigation of both might be doubled and trebled, but for the ſelfiſh tyranny of the different ſtates through which they paſs. If the ſeventeen provinces, ac⯑cording to the firſt idea of their revolt from Spain, could be reunited under one good government, it would be a noble country, and a reſpectable power. Charlemagne choſe his capital between the Maiſe and Rhine. But on approaching France, the baneful influence of that government, the effects of French laws, and French leaſes, ſoon begin to appear. Even in French Flanders, though the ſame kind of ſoil with the Auſtrian, waſte and fallow lands, weeds and negligence, begin to be ſeen; and as we advance into France, many other ſad changes for the worſe we are doomed to experience. We gradually loſe the noble ſpacious farm houſes, with great barns like churches, in exchange for wretched half-ruined hovels; we leave the comfortable neat Flemiſh dreſſes, for French rags, dirty woollen night-caps, wooden ſhoes, and [229] every mark of miſery; in ſhort, we have left order and neatneſs in every thing be⯑hind us. The moſt grievous, at preſent, ſeems to be the loſs of thoſe clean and ready Flanders maids, for theſe dirty ſaucy men-ſervants. This inconſiſtent prejudice in France, where the women have ſo much influence, of employing men inſtead of women ſervants in almoſt every depart⯑ment, is not eaſily accounted for, and to me is truly diſguſting. From the kitchen to every part and office about the houſe, you will, in many parts, meet with no other ſervants but men, generally naſty imperti⯑nent fellows, and my great averſion; though we ſee the women labouring in the fields, at the roads, and performing the office of oſtlers in the ſtables. The French being conſidered by many as the naſtieſt people, for a civiliſed nation yet known, may be greatly owing to this cuſtom of domeſtic male ſervants.

LETTER V. Of Travellers.—Society.—Two Claſſes—Of Paris, and the Learned.

I FEAR you begin to expect too much from me, and depend too little on what you have read and heard. I doubt there may be but little in France that is new to you, and that can be communicated in this way, nor any very uſeful leſſon to be learned, until we diſcover ſome new de⯑fects, ſomething to find fault with by way of text: for from faults and defects, I be⯑lieve, we are more willing to learn, than from precept or imitation. There is often ſomething very amuſing, and not ungrate⯑ful to the mind of man or woman, to hear a country well abuſed, or ſee their foibles [231] turned into ridicule. Among the various travellers one meets with, I think the ſulky and ſatirical are not among the leaſt en⯑tertaining or uſeful; and I believe, that as much is to be learned from the blunt or bitter humour of ſome old Engliſh travel⯑lers, as from that eternal affectation of pleaſantry or complaiſance which is now ſo much in faſhion, and which is proba⯑bly as prolific a ſource of miſrepreſenta⯑tion, as any other humour or prejudice whatever. The conceived neceſſity of ſeeming always pleaſed with every thing, however diſagreeable or even deteſtable, muſt miſlead and bias our minds and our pens, as much as the other extreme, the ill humour of thoſe Anglois atrabilaires whom we have ſeen peſting and ſwearing at all they met with out of their own country. I ſhould think a little old faſhion⯑ed Engliſh ſincerity and good ſenſe to the full as becoming in our travellers, as thoſe conſtant attempts at trifling wit and plea⯑ſantry, or that perpetual grin of politeſſe, which we are now ſo ready to borrow, [232] and awkwardly imitate, from theſe our agreeable neighbours.

I believe you remember the gentleman who returned to England immediately on ſeeing a French kitchen; and my fellow-traveller, who had determined to paſs the reſt of his days on the continent, on find⯑ing at Calais that he could not have beef⯑ſtakes well dreſſed, ſet off next day on his return;—and our friend S—, who left Spain directly when he found he could not have melted butter to his veal, which had coſt him ſo much pains and money to procure.

Within thoſe extremes of natural blunt⯑neſs and acquired affectation, there are travellers of great variety of ſpecies and character; and to each of theſe, objects will appear very different. The accounts honeſtly enough given by one, may to another appear fallacious; ſo that we may all write on, and ſtill find ſubjects enough to employ our pens, as well from the va⯑riety [233] of unexamined matter, as from the different ſight, character, or views of the travellers.

But to return.—I believe I meant to ſay ſomething about ſome of their towns; but do not be alarmed, for I mean not to trouble you with deſcriptions, becauſe I think they never convey the ideas that are deſigned.

And firſt, generally,—From a kind of childiſh diſlike of being alone, which they call love of ſociety, the French live much in towns, ſo as to play at cards, and have little taſte for a country life, notwithſtanding what they may tell you to the contrary in their books. As ſtill a worſe ſymptom of their taſte, the people of beſt fortune get to live generally in the central and moſt un⯑wholeſome parts of a town, leaving the out-ſkirts and fine ſituations to poverty and naſtineſs. For the whole ſeems divided only into two claſſes, the extremes of ſociety, or the few rich, and the many very poor, with too few of thoſe middle ranks [234] which form the beſt bonds of ſociety, and the ſtrength of the nation. Moſt of this you may already know;—only let me deſire you will trace the cauſes and nume⯑rous conſequences of this injurious diviſion of rank and property, when you viſit theſe countries, for it is of great conſequence to ſociety; the remedy is difficult, and re⯑quires more wiſdom than can even be ex⯑pected in an arbitrary government. In this you may trace, perhaps, the inevitable decline of Europe. Such objects are worthy of you as a philoſopher, a ſoldier, and probably a future ſenator.

I need not trouble you much about this fine city, Paris; though ſuperior to Lon⯑don in ſome very material things, yet I think it inferior in many others. Though ſuperior in public walks, libraries, palaces; London has certainly the advantage in the other eſſentials and comforts of life. I like their boulevards prodigiouſly,—a very extenſive open walk, without going out of town, with ſuch variety of buildings and amuſements; it inſpires one with ſome [235] ideas of liberty, till by approaching the Baſtile at the end of it, we are put in mind where we are. But the ſtreets of this town are ſhocking. You muſt either ride over people, or be ridden over.

I cannot ſay I like the generality of theſe Pariſians, nor can think them near ſo ami⯑able as they do themſelves. Moſt of them who have not travelled, I fancy, you would think intolerably conceited and ignorant,— at once polite and impertinent. Compli⯑ments do not conſtitute civility. Their atttention, ſo far from civility, is often rudeneſs. We can too often diſcover that they meant no kindneſs to us by their com⯑pliments, as we might at firſt imagine, but only to ſhew themſelves off as ſuperior to us. I do not mean by Pariſian, any of their people of the firſt faſhion, for they are, in general, perfectly polite, eaſy, and genteel, and perhaps more amiably ſo than our own.

You know there are many of the learned and wiſe here, as well as of the agreeable; [236] but the former are not yet ſo often to be found among the latter, as you may fancy, from knowing, it is become the faſhion for authors and men of learning to be admitted into the firſt company more than formerly. However, we are pleaſed to ſee ſome of the learned and philoſophic of both ſexes taking the lead, even among people of the firſt rank and fortune; and if they go on, we may ſee Plato's wiſh accompliſhed, and the world governed by philoſophers. But hitherto I doubt if authors be always the moſt im⯑proving or deſirable company. Some, en⯑groſſed and led away by books, are thereby leſs acquainted with, and leſs ſit for, the world. Others, abſent, reſerved, and auſtere, already embarraſſed with a reputa⯑tion which is to be ſupported with great caution and artifice; embroiled in the vanity and intrigues of the world, their works and opinions already known, and operating like religious prejudices which can ſeldom be touched, or muſt be ſup⯑ported right or wrong; their converſation is not always ſo frank and intelligent, nor [237] ſo edifying as might be expected from their knowledge.

The young, if ſtudious and unprejudiced, full of information and curioſity, as yet eager after truth, and only in the progreſs towards reputation and author-craft, are probably the beſt worth knowing,—the moſt friendly and communicative, parti⯑cularly with ſtrangers; but ſuch men are not eaſily to be met with, as they do not waſte much of their time with the cards and nonſenſe of common ſocieties.

LETTER VI. French Character, and national Taſte.

TO draw the French character with the juſtice and preciſion I could wiſh, would require more penetration and labour than I can claim, or have leiſure to beſtow. I mean to give you only a few of the ſtrik⯑ing features as I paſs, and to deal more in blemiſhes than in beauties.

When we travellers can be honeſt enough to give you things as they ſtrike us at ſight, I fear that the faults will always ſtand firſt. The foibles and defects of this people muſt make the firſt and ſtrongeſt impreſſion. I believe there is no great danger of the two nations ſoon becoming very fond of each other. The one values itſelf on the kinds of merit which are neither eſteemed nor wanted by the other. The French muſt deſpiſe the Engliſh ſolid ſenſe, and inde⯑pendent [239] ſpirit, perhaps as much as we do their eſprit, graces, agrements. They muſt diſlike our ſullen, proud, awkward man⯑ner, as much as we do their conceit, vanity,—leur manieres avantageuſes, l'envie de ſe faire valoir, leur fatuité, &c. It re⯑quires ſome time to diſcover, through their politeneſs, how much they diſlike us.

Yet, if it were not for a war now and then, I ſhould fear our aſſimilating too much towards theſe our agreeable neigh⯑bours, and our meeting them more than half-way. Though few of them will pro⯑bably ever have good ſenſe enough to be much pleaſed with ours; many of us are apt to have good nature enough to like both their manner and their manners, leur franchiſe, leur babil, and many other leſs important agreeable nothings about them.

They may hate us, while we deſpiſe them, and contempt may be full as power⯑ful in its effects as hatred. Yet I believe, we ſhall generally find many more Engliſh in France, than French in England. Per⯑haps [240] ſome of us come here in order to get rid of our ill-humour, or to vent it on them, like thoſe who keep an humble dependant to ſcold at. Although we may recipro⯑cally improve by intercourſe, and it might be better for mankind were nations to mix more with each other, yet one would wiſh each to retain their native character,—that national ſtamp which diſcriminates it from the reſt. In order to this, it may be well to dwell on the faults we would wiſh to avoid. I ſhall therefore go on, as at firſt propoſed, picking up a few of them en paſſant.

Though the national or prevailing cha⯑racter here, like that of other human beings, is mixed, and made up of good, bad, and indifferent qualities; yet ſuch parts predominate, as make the compoſition of a Frenchman very diſtinguiſhable, and dif⯑ferent from any other:—but to know him, you muſt live with him; reading about him is inſufficient. You will find, for ex⯑ample, qu'il ne ſe ſuffit pas à lui même, but lives by the breath and opinion of others more than on his own.

[241]He will ſacrifice every other comfort of life to the ornament of his perſon. The lodging of a very fine petit maitre here, is often too mean and dirty for a taylor's journeyman with you.

In them, all is borrowed, poſtiche, and very little natural; ils veulent toujours re⯑preſenter—their life is a mere parade. Yet they only copy from each other (tres mou⯑toniers), while we are always flying off into ſingularity, hunting after nature or reality, but perhaps with leſs ſucceſs in our attempts than they in theirs.

They ſeem ever changing, but are ſtill the ſame. It is only we that really change, with all our apparent ſteadineſs and gra⯑vity.

The Frenchman, though ſociably diſ⯑poſed, with all that enviable gaieté de coeur, and affected goodneſs and conſideration for others; yet as he is not in the habit of doing any thing eſſential for the public, and but little for his neighbour, and it is, perhaps, the lot of that kind of vivacity and flow of [242] ſpirits, to be capable of but little feeling or humanity; he is probably, on the whole, therefore a more ſelfiſh being than the ſulky Engliſhman. I think I ſee here, inſtances of the ſelfiſh prevailing over the friendly qualities, rather more than with us;—the oeconomical, or parſimonious, over the generous,—the cruel and unfeeling over the humane,—l'etourderie over ſentiment, —a falſe taſte, or gout poſtiche, over that of nature. Beſides particular inſtances, one ſees it in generals,—as in the ſeverity, and negligent compoſition of ſome laws, and in the mode of execution:—in the general preference given to liferents over any fixed future proviſion for poſterity, or relations. Perhaps we might infer ſome want of feeling or humanity, from their want of taſte for the ſimple beauty of na⯑ture and of action; and we may per⯑ceive, in the different degrees of art, paſ⯑ſion, or muſic, that they feel nothing, till the expreſſion is carried to an outrageous and vulgar extreme, certainly beyond our line of beauty. But they like it, and that is a ſhort and ſufficient anſwer to all our [243] objections. It is needleſs to diſpute about taſte. While they can reliſh only thoſe degrees of violence and expreſſion, they may laugh at our criticiſms.

The degree of expreſſion in all the arts muſt be tempered to the tone of mind of the ſpectators, more than to the true nature of the paſſion to be expreſſed. In a ſtate of eaſe and tranquillity, a refined audience will not readily admit of the violence of real paſſion, nor of any of its diſtortions, beyond a certain limit of the graceful and temperate. This limit may be extend⯑ed, but ſhould never be broken, by pre⯑viouſly warming up the mind by ſucceſ⯑ſive or accumulating impreſſions. The French will never probably underſtand the natural repoſe of true and graceful dignity.

Without the conſtant force of ſome foreign aid and intercourſe, national cha⯑racter and taſte muſt perhaps generally re⯑vert into ſome confined tract or circle. And when national pride, conceit, and [244] ignorance are planted, they readily ſpread, and tend, like other evils, to perpetuate themſelves.

Though many of the French are now liberal, and willing enough to get rid of the ſhackles of nationality in taſte and cha⯑racter; yet, after a certain age, it is per⯑haps more impracticable with them, than with thoſe of any other nation, to ſucceed. Some of them ſatiriſe and abuſe their own nation, and praiſe others;—affect to extol the Italian ſchool in painting and muſic;— imitate Engliſh manners; and all the while remain mere Frenchmen. In order to change or improve their taſte, they would have to combat many inveterate habits, of which they are not aware; and the cauſes of their peculiarities they themſelves are unfit to inveſtigate. In ſhort, they appear to us a different ſpecies, une race apart; this they forget, or never perceive. Their authors talk of man and woman, and fancy they ſpeak generally of the whole race, and know not that they ſpeak only of French men and women; fancying all the world [245] like themſelves; forgetting that French na⯑ture is not human nature, and that few of their qualities are common to the ſpecies. Only a choſen few of them ſeem to have any minds, the reſt have only ſenſes: nor can I yet find any one term in their lan⯑guage to expreſs what I here mean by mind. Even their ſenſes appear to us de⯑fective, or different from ours, as if two quick and too weak; they can perceive only certain things and diſtances: though more lively, and perhaps ſenſible of ſome things which eſcape us, yet I think we have many perceptions which they over⯑look, or do not reach. Unfit for medita⯑tion, in the exerciſe or agitation of the ſenſes conſiſt their chief happineſs, and particularly in that of the ſight; they are all eyes, and can ſacrifice real com⯑forts to pleaſe that ſenſe. When that agi⯑tation ceaſes, ils s'endorent ou s'ennuyent a la mort.

The numerous clergy and military form the life of ſociety in France, and, together [246] with the ladies, aſſume the direction of every thing. The female graces, and facility of expreſſion, are as remarkable as their influence. I think you will find vanity the univerſal, or ruling paſſion here.

LETTER VII. Fine Arts.

I HAVE ſeen their biennial exhibition of paintings, and wiſhed to be more of a connoiſſeur on your account. With my ſmall degree of ſkill or taſte, I am inclined to believe they have hardly a painter, at preſent, above a ſecond or third rate, ex⯑cept one. However, I think I have ſeen ſome young ſtudents who promiſe well, and may contribute to revive true taſte, and the great ſtyle, provided they travel in time: this is indiſpenſable. Their preſent mode inclines too much towards thoſe fa⯑daiſes of Dreuſe, which, though often pretty and nicely executed, are ſo far beneath that firſt and grand ſtyle of painting which tends at once to forward that delightful art, and to elevate and improve the mind, that we are at a loſs where to rank theſe things, —theſe pieces from common life!—and [248] French life too! they may have ſome merit in their way, though not equal to that of Hogarth's pieces of the ſame kind, nor of equal ſpirit or moral ten⯑dency.

Let us by all means imitate nature;— but there is ſurely a choice or ſelection of objects, by which the true judgment of genius is diſtinguiſhed, and we muſt rank the elegant and ſublime above the mean and affected. There is an univerſal beauty and elegance, which is not of any particular country, but to be culled from all nature, or conceived by a warm and elegant fancy, within the power of nature, but beyond what ſhe has been known to produce: ſhe furniſhes hints as points upon which genius builds, and almoſt creates.

Their ſculptors have ſucceeded, I think, better than their painters, and have fre⯑quently come nearer to their maſters the Italians and Greeks than any of us. But a little French affectation often intrudes even into ſome of their firſt rate compoſi⯑tions, [249] and which, to me, always ſpoils the effects of the whole piece.

I believe their modern art of dancing, and their theatres, have helped to vitiate more than to improve their taſte in the fine arts. I often fancy that I ſee, in many of their beſt performances, ſome of their dancing or theatrical ideas of grace, which, to me, is generally mere affectation, diſtortion, or grimace. This is copying from a copy, and a bad copy, inſtead of going to the original.

From this general cenſure on their artiſts, you know I except one, viz. Vernet, who follows nature, and chuſes well, and is, I think, claſſically elegant in ſome things;— but he ſtudied in Italy, I am told, from a child. Their merit, as already hinted, in the arts, has generally been nearly in pro⯑portion to their aſſiſtance from Italy. The cauſes, or at leaſt the means of their great progreſs, during the time of Lewis XIV. aroſe chiefly from thence. They were then liberal enough to ſhew to whom they owed [250] their excellence,—to imitate the Italian ſchool, and encourage their artiſts. Since that period I do not find they have im⯑proved, but on the contrary declined, as they returned to their national conceit and contempt of ſtrangers, fancying themſelves ſuperior to the Italians, and to all the world, in every thing. There is ſcarce an Italian artiſt now to be found in all France, while they are giving immenſe prices for little Dutch and Flemiſh pictures;—both bad ſymptoms. I believe there has hardly ever been a great artiſt among thoſe who never ſaw the Mediterranean, nor Italy. An ac⯑quaintance with the nations that ſurround that ſea, I conſider as a neceſſary part of education, and eſpecially for artiſts. I am inclined to believe that none of us can well arrive at the firſt degrees of excellence in any thing, without leaving our own coun⯑try early, and frequently taking enlarged views of men, of nature, and of art. I doubt if the French have any other way left to be great in any thing, but by leaving their country very young, and ſtaying away till they almoſt forget they are French, and [251] till they acquire other habits and ideas, and exerciſe their faculties and their organs on other objects, and in a different manner from what can be done in their own coun⯑try. This, as it may appear ſingular, I muſt endeavour to explain ſome other time.

You know the French have an academy at Rome, but their natural conceit has likewiſe rendered it almoſt uſeleſs to them; for the regulations require the ſtudents firſt to have gained prizes at home, and be completely fixed in their national manner, before they go there: whenever they get there, their chief object is gained; they ſeem to ſit down almoſt ſatisfied with that trifling diſtinction, and are not often much inclined to labour afterwards for more fame.

All this, you will readily conceive, is ſpeaking rather in a general and indiſcri⯑minate manner, for which you will make ſome allowance, and recollect, that the exact truth cannot always be expreſſed, and much [252] leſs in few words. They have now ſome promiſing young artiſts, who are aware of theſe national defects and impediments; and others will probably ariſe and execute finer ideas, and in a better manner than have lately appeared here; and will revive that proper reſpect for Italy, and the re⯑mains of the ancients, which is always the concomitant of real merit. They may emulate, without being confined to their own great maſters, for you know they have had very great ones. You will begin to think that I am likewiſe becoming a con⯑noiſſeur, like moſt of our travelling coun⯑trymen, who ſeem ſo generally to be en⯑groſſed and infatuated by the purſuits of virtù.—I ſhall, however, purſue my re⯑flections.

The fine arts are, doubtleſs, entitled to our admiration and eſteem, and conſidered, even abſtractedly from the pleaſure they af⯑ford, may tend more to the benefit than the prejudice of mankind. But their good ef⯑fects will depend much on the objects about which they are employed. In this, ſome [253] of the ancients were wiſer, or more for⯑tunate, than we, in employing the painter and ſculptor to promote public virtue by the public commemoration of great men, and great actions. And I ſhould have more reſpect for thoſe arts now, if they could be made to unite in producing ſome more public good, of which I can ſtill ſee the poſſibility. But while we ſee them confined to a few great towns, and there, among a few great families and churches, the only ſeats of elegance and luxury, while miſery reigns throughout the reſt of the nation, theſe fine arts become no very favourable ſymptoms of the advancement of human happineſs, or of the ſcience of government.

Religion has latterly been the chief ob⯑ject in which the arts have been made to join their aid with thoſe great effects, which I could wiſh to extend to more general utility. But in this progreſs, I fear we have lately loſt, inſtead of gaining ground. I cannot but lament that our religious re⯑formers ſhould have thought it neceſſary to [254] diſmiſs, at once, from our churches, paint⯑ing, ſculpture, and muſic. May not we hope that ſome of our princes or biſhops will be able to recal them to their ſtation by degrees, as uſeful knowledge and ele⯑gant taſte extend their influence? We ought not to deſpair of ſuch a revolution, when we know that even ſome of the Ma⯑homedan princes contrived to admit the arts, in ſpite of their religion, though it ſeems to have been eſtabliſhed on purpoſe to ex⯑clude them, to promote ignorance, and deſtroy the mental powers.

LETTER VIII. Commerce.—Manufactures.—Reflections.

THE French, with all their induſtry, are not yet a commercial nation, though their government appears at times to be ſmitten with ſome temporary fits of ſupporting trade (perhaps becauſe it is the faſhion), and have even taken part in the modern abſurdity of commercial wars. They would not have much occaſion to depend on the precarious reſources of foreign com⯑merce, if they could make a proper uſe of the advantages of their ſituation—of the fertility and extent of their country. But that again would require a degree of liberty and ſecurity, and a kind of government of which they are perhaps now incapable.

Even if commerce ſhould appear to be⯑come more neceſſary to them, in order to contend with other maritime powers, if they [256] are wiſe, they will conſider well before they attempt to ſacrifice their military to their commercial character. While the romantic ſentiments of honour can produce certain effects and exertions, it would be unwiſe to ſubſtitute the love of wealth, which might not operate in the ſame manner.

Conſidering, however, the difficulties there muſt be, under ſuch a government, to attract or raiſe great capitals, and to employ them in any ſcheme of commerce or manu⯑facture, they have ſucceeded amazingly in ſome things of the kind. You know their ſucceſs in ſilks, and in ſome ſorts of wool⯑lens, which might ſucceed ſtill better if leſs burdened with regulations. Their goblins is an elegant manufactory. That company has a monopoly for dying certain colours. This we ſhould perhaps think oppreſſive but here it may have good effects. Like the royal manufactories in ſome other poor nations, it may be the only means o [...] retaining them in the country, and of ſup⯑porting the quality and reputation of the goods; operating ſomewhat in the way tha [...] [257] our ſtatutes of apprenticeſhip have been ſuppoſed to do: and I ſuſpect there may be truth in that ſuppoſition, and wiſdom in the inſtitution; for, in countries where ap⯑prenticeſhips are not rendered neceſſary by law, I think the workmanſhip of every thing is inferior. I wiſh you could per⯑ſuade ſome of your dyers, and others who work in metals, &c. to ſtudy che⯑miſtry, and could give a better education to your tradeſmen, and to the lower people in general.

The manufactory of looking-glaſs like⯑wiſe, ſo well known here, is a noble and profitable work, and well conducted. Eight hundred people are employed in one build⯑ing. You may attempt it in England, but cannot, I fear, ſucceed near ſo well as here; for there will not be near the ſame demand. The ſuperior luxury and riches of this great country,—the faſhion and taſte of the peo⯑ple for that ornament,—their having the ſtart in the methods of working, and in the markets of Europe, are cauſes quite ſuffici⯑ent [258] for holding their great ſuperiority over all competitors in this branch.

The porcelaine fabrics, which many princes ſeem of late ſo fond of promoting, can be of little ſervice, I doubt, to a na⯑tion,—only ſo far as they may be the means of improving the public taſte, and thoſe we call earthen ware, which, being of common uſe, are of far more import⯑ance. Though, in theſe laſt, they are trying ſome of our late improvements at Rouen, as well as ſome of the cotton vel⯑vets, I have no dread of their being able to rival our friends Bentley and Wedge⯑wood, nor the arts and methods ſo far be⯑fore them, and long eſtabliſhed, at Man⯑cheſter, and elſewhere.

When will nations be cured of the folly of attempting to ſupply themſelves with every thing by their own hands? How much better to take of each other whatever is the moſt natural and convenient produce of each? This may open a fertile ſource of [259] intercourſe, and of future benefits to man⯑kind.

Though this is now become a very liberal nation, or rather produces many liberal individuals, their reputation in this too is beyond the reality, as in many other things. The reputation is acquired by means of many little arts, and of their pretty little language.

Though doubtful if their government will ever be liberal enough to open their ports with us on a fair and equitable foot⯑ing;—though their politics have generally been too artful and cunning, and conſiſted moſtly in little tricks, and in outwitting even their friends—a great fault, and too much imitated;—yet let us hope, that ſome liberal prince, or miniſter, may dare to lead them right.

It is more from ill-humour than want of knowledge, that nations do not yet lay their commerce more open to each other. Let us hope that ſome of them will ſoon [260] break the ice, and others may follow. As our friend Adam Smith's book comes to be more generally read and known, I think his principles muſt prevail, and contribute greatly to open the eyes of nations to ſee their own intereſt; and it may, in that caſe, be of more ſervice to the world than any book that has appeared ſince Euclid.

The French would willingly perſuade themſelves, and the world, that their coun⯑try is improving very faſt: but of that, I doubt even the poſſibility under ſuch a government. Their having advanced ſo far, under ſo much oppreſſion, is really wonderful; but I ſuſpect they cannot go much farther. The fine arts—the trifling arts, may yet advance a little; but I doubt the country, and the people, muſt long remain nearly as they are, or go back⯑wards.

A few philoſophers in the capital may write very good books, and may fancy they are improving their nation, and the world, at a great rate, and all the while [261] their names are ſcarcely known in the pro⯑vinces, where it requires far other efforts to baniſh oppreſſion, civil and eccleſiaſtic, againſt the intereſt of the more powerful ſupporters of eſtabliſhed abuſes.

Book-making is a very conſiderable trade in this country; and they are thereby bet⯑ter known, and rather over-rated, in other countries. Europe pays them, in this way, a conſiderable and voluntary tax for the pleaſure and convenience of their agreeable, and now almoſt univerſal language.

Thus, I am at length gradually brought back to the ſubject of your laſt,—to the province of fancy, taſte, and literature; where, I grant you, ſomething muſt be frequently picked, to mix up with the dry materials of mere utility, and to ſeaſon, where poſſible, the bitter or inſipid draughts of common or laborious life. But the re⯑turn is now too late, and muſt be referred to the next.

LETTER IX. Artiſts.—Nationalites.—Theatres.—Reflec⯑tions.—Language.

IT may preſently be ſeen that the arts have been encouraged here more than with us, and with more ſucceſs at one period; though I think they have at others gone farther wrong than ourſelves. Al⯑though they have had very great maſters, and the names of Pouſſin, Le Brun, Le Sueur, Girardon, &c. will always ſtand high in the liſts of fame, yet the national taſte has been but little improved by them; and the general ſtyle of drawing, of orna⯑ment, of architecture, is ſtill almoſt as vi⯑ciouſly national and capricious as before the time of thoſe great men. They have more great works to ſhew than we have; but, at the ſame time, more bad taſte. The moderns in general have been ſinking, and are now far beneath the ſchools of [263] thoſe great maſters: but I think the French have ſunk lower than any of us, and more than was to be expected in ſo great and poliſhed a nation.

There is now however ſome hope, I think, of the revival of true taſte and ge⯑nius in the competition of thoſe two great nations, France and England: but we muſt all have recourſe to Italy for that purpoſe; and muſt there labour yet long, before it can be accompliſhed. In that progreſs, we ſhall probably approach nearer to each other, and may agree better in taſte and opinions; though, in many things, each will moſt likely always retain its peculiarities.

There are ſome early habits more obſti⯑nately retained than others. Our taſte, for example, in cookery, in amuſements, in dreſs, and ornaments, I think we ſeldom change; and we are more firmly attached to particular diſhes, plays, actors, and ſing⯑ers, than to many things of greater im⯑portance. Though men and nations ſeem born to differ wherever it is poſſible, yet [264] where the general principles are obvious, we muſt often be of the ſame opinion. We may agree with theſe people about a problem or a picture, but we ſhall perhaps always prefer roaſt beef and Shakeſpear to ſoupe and Racine; while they, as conſtant⯑ly, remain in the oppoſite taſte, and prefer the latter.

Their muſic, and ſome of their theatri⯑cal amuſements, are certainly full of bad taſte, as well as with us, though we differ widely. Truth is but one—errors are in⯑finite. In order to get into the right road that leads to improvement, to truth, beau⯑ty, and nature, we muſt firſt be forced from our national prejudices, by early and frequent travel, and muſt become inti⯑mately converſant with the arts, taſte, and people, of other countries. Even then, our labour is only begun; much will af⯑terwards depend on the wiſdom and en⯑couragement, and on particular inſtitutions, at home,—on education—on faſhion.

[265]You know the French have ſome good comedies; and their ſpirited and agreeable manner is well ſuited to comic action. In⯑deed I conſider them as the firſt comedians in the world: but their tragic action and declamation, of which they are ſo fond, I think wretched; conſiſting moſtly of a kind of furious or outrageous bombaſt, which I believe ſeldom fails to diſguſt ſtrangers at firſt. The Frenchified Greek and Roman characters, which they ſhew on their ſtage, are like nothing in nature; but appear to us a ridiculous ſort of cari⯑caturas, blown up by a puerile or petulant kind of paſſion, unworthy even of the chil⯑dren of thoſe manly people. Though the French ſeem to like all ſorts of violence in action, declamation, &c. and prefer their wretched tragedies to their excellent comedies; yet I do not think they feel much with the actors, nor can be conſi⯑dered as fond of tragedy. They are al⯑ways diſpoſed to be pleaſed, and ſeem to diſtribute their applauſe in proportion to the exertions of the actors, though ever ſo extravagant: theſe are generally in ex⯑tremes, [266] which are uſually diſtorted and ug⯑ly; they are always ready to burſt on every trifling occaſion of paſſion: ſo that they, as it were, at once overſhoot the mark, and leave behind all thoſe natural gradations or tranſitions in the paſſions or affections of the mind. In ſhort, their players, toujours prets a crévér, ſeem to have very ſeldom any idea of a truly great and dignified cha⯑racter; and but few of their poets have arrived to the ſublime or natural, on any ſubject, and ſtill leſs in the operations of the human paſſions. The great charac⯑ters which they have attempted to deli⯑neate, from whatever country they are an⯑nounced, generally turn out to be mere Frenchmen.

The cauſes of thoſe things, and of their appearance to us, may be various and com⯑plicated: yet I cannot help attributing much of it to their language. Wherever the great paſſions are concerned, the ſtrange magic of this language with me is ſuch, as to turn the hero who uſes it, into a fanfa⯑ron, and the fineſt air, in ſinging; into a [267] vulgar howl. But the moſt powerful, though diſtant, ſource of all their égaremens in theſe various walks of fancy and genius, is probably a falſe or defective taſte for the beauties of nature, and their want of inclination for a country life: this again may proceed from their government, man⯑ners, and ways of living. Things are wonderfully connected in this world. Per⯑haps till we ſee their farms and country-houſes improve, we cannot expect them to produce a natural poet, painter, or actor. There are moral as well as natural qualities that exclude each other. Theſe people, with ſuch wit and vivacity, muſt perhaps be proportionally deficient in judgment, and muſt be oftener wrong than ſome of their cooler and ſedater neighbours. This to many appears to be actually the caſe. But their genius is again rather reſtrained and ſhackled by ſome other circumſtances— by thoſe already mentioned; by the nature of their government—by the formation of their language, which, though a very fine one for ſome purpoſes, is confined, and unfit for others, by being idiomatic and [268] affected. But I may have occaſion to re⯑turn to theſe ſubjects, where ſounds ar [...] concerned; and the ſize of the paper, a [...] uſual, relieves you for the preſent. I ſha [...] however fill it up with an obſervation [...] think I have read or heard:—that withi [...] certain limits or paths of their own, th [...] French have probably more variety an [...] grace in their writings than we,—more an [...] nicer ſhades and diſtinctions in expreſſion and manner:—but I think they ſeldom o [...] never arrive at the ſame force, in though or expreſſion. They have many pretty ways of inſinuating what they mean; bu [...] ſeldom any of our forcible and manly way of ſpeaking out: and, when they attemp [...] it, ça devient de fanfaronades.—'Tis th [...] ſwelling of the frog. The language natu⯑rally made for graceful trifling, cannot, i [...] ſhould ſeem, attempt the ſublime or mag⯑nificent, without bordering on the ridi⯑culous.

LETTER X. Of Travelling.—Obſervations on arbitrary Power, &c.

PARTS of our journies have been ra⯑ther too much hurried for me, and we had not always opportunities to ſtop where I wiſhed, in order to examine, or to reflect or converſe on what we ſaw. But I believe that is often the caſe with moſt travellers: ſo that many wiſe re⯑flections, that might thus have been pro⯑duced, muſt now be loſt, and thou go uninſtructed to thy grave, as the clown ſays.

I grant you that an Engliſhman may live tolerably well in France, and be well enough amuſed, as many of us have ex⯑perienced: yet I doubt if there be much real and uſeful inſtruction to be acquired. In the uſeful arts, we are already before [270] them; and in the fine arts, though we have not done ſo much, we have not gone ſo far wrong. Though theſe arts have not been ſo much cultivated and encou⯑raged among us, what we have produced is more within the bounds of ſimplicity and nature; and we have not, like them, quite ſo much way to go back in order to regain the right road.

With reſpect to what we may learn on any moral ſubjects, as of law, government, or manners; their national character, their taſte, their paſſions, are ſo oppoſite to ours, that I often doubt the uſe or applicability to us of ſuch knowledge. Their life muſt ſeem at firſt to us unnatural, and they themſelves a ſpecies apart from the reſt of human na⯑ture: yet there is ſo much inconſiſtency in mankind, that theſe very people take the lead in almoſt every thing, and are obſe⯑quiouſly followed by the reſt of Europe. There may be ſufficient reaſons for this, when we come to examine the matter. Somebody has written a book called l'Eu⯑rope Françoiſe. Some of the Aſiatic peo⯑ple [271] call us Europeans all by the name of Franks, and conſider us as one nation. We may thank the French for bringing us all to that reſemblance.

Various reflections will naturally occur to an Engliſhman, when he ſurveys, even here, the conſequences of arbitrary pow⯑er: among the moſt ſtriking of which will be the poverty and oppreſſion of the lower claſſes of ſociety.

This government, ſince it got the bet⯑ter of the nobility and the Proteſtants, overpowered all oppoſition, and deſtroyed all the traces of freedom, has hitherto be⯑haved wonderouſly well, conſidering its unlimited abilities to do otherwiſe with im⯑punity, and the natural effects of uncon⯑trolled power on its poſſeſſors. This may perhaps be attributed to the accidental in⯑fluence of poliſhed manners, ſcience, and civilization: but I would not promiſe or depend much on the continuance of ſuch moderation, nor on the duration of ſuch caſual influence. We can already trace [272] the footſteps of deſpotiſm here, and per⯑ceive her careleſs and unfeeling indolence, with many unguarded ſtrokes of her na⯑tural pride and inſolence, and can ſee that ſhe muſt, ſoon or late, break looſe from ſuch feeble reſtraints; and that philoſo⯑phers, women, and public opinion, will not always be a ſufficient cheque even to her caprices. Though this tyranny is not yet ſo bad as that of eaſtern deſpotiſm, it may terminate ſomewhat in that way in due time: the people are already obviouſly impoveriſhed and oppreſſed. Effects muſt follow, and be proportioned to their cauſes. Of the poſſeſſors of uncontrolled power, a great majority will probably always be ſpoilt by it, in ſome degree,—bodies of men ſtill more than individuals. How different the behaviour of a Cyrus, or an Alexander, before and after the poſſeſſion of power? Even the Romans, when once triumphant, ſoon loſt ſight of the wiſdom, juſtice, tem⯑perance, and moderation, which had laid the foundation of their empire.

[273]The ancient European nations maintain⯑ed, for a time, that free and independent ſpirit, which had been their characteriſtic, as wandering tribes. But in that ſtate of ſociety and knowledge, no ſyſtem of pre⯑cautions and control could be foreſeen or eſtabliſhed, ſufficient to ſecure their uſual freedom againſt the encroachments of ty⯑ranny, which muſt follow the influence of property, now ſuperadded to the military authority of their chiefs. The warlike forms and order of the field, tranſplanted or continued to the fixed ſociety, in time produced the feudal ſyſtem; a ſpecies of government which was ſoon found to be incompatible with civil liberty, and which aboliſhed all former ideas of independence, and of the equal right in each man to whatever he might lawfully poſſeſs, though ever ſo ſmall; till ſociety came gradually to be divided into tyrants and ſlaves.

One of the neceſſary productions of that ſyſtem, and perhaps the beſt, was that bar⯑barous ſpecies of perpetual war, which came afterwards to be a little ſoftened and [274] humanized by the romantic ſentiments of chivalry. War exerciſes and maintains ſome of the noble and manly exertions; and thoſe who fight are always good for ſome⯑thing.

As men acquire freedom and ſecurity, they are known to improve in arts and induſtry; in dexterity and diviſion of la⯑bour: thence a greater number may be maintained in idleneſs, and the powers and the happineſs of the whole ſociety are con⯑ſidered as thereby increaſed. But ſuch is the love of power, that ſlavery would moſt probably have maintained its ground, though ſo obviouſly againſt the intereſt of the whole, and particularly of the maſters, had it not been for certain accidents and changes in manners and ways of life. Theſe proceeded probably, at firſt, from that madneſs for the cruzades, which ſo ge⯑nerally infected Europe, and of which the hiſtory is ſufficiently known. The neceſ⯑ſary expences attending thoſe expeditions ſome increaſe of knowledge, taſte, arts and luxuries, brought from the Eaſt, pro⯑duced [275] conſiderable changes at home; among which was the circulation of property, and the releaſe of numbers from a ſtate of bondage.

The church, you know, likewiſe lent a helping hand to the abolition of ſlavery, partly from religious, and partly from in⯑tereſted, motives. But domeſtic freedom could be fully eſtabliſhed only in thoſe countries which have entirely broken and thrown off the feodal claims. In the de⯑cline of that ſyſtem it was ſtill doubted by many, whether the abolition of ſlavery would be of advantage to the people in general? Though it has undoubtedly proved ſo in England, and ſome other countries, the advantages may perhaps ſtill be doubtful where the abſolute power of one maſter has ſucceeded to that of the many; and were it not for the advances made in arts and civilization, it might yet be a queſtion, whether the deſpotiſm of one would not be worſe than feodal anar⯑chy, where that one was not a very good man, and a firm and enlightened [276] philoſopher, which we have reaſon to fear would ſeldom be the caſe if the ancient ignorance ſtill prevailed; ſuch princes be⯑ing even now rare, with all the advan⯑tages of modern knowledge and education.

LETTER. XI. Of Studies and active Purſuits.—The French and Engliſh,—their Governments.

I MEANT to give you ſome travels, as well as reflections; but I think the lat⯑ter will encroach upon and fill up moſt of your paper. As there may be but little that is new to you remaining for me to tell of theſe countries, and as I am perhaps na⯑turally more of a projector than a retailer of facts and particulars, I ſhall probably go on frequently to indulge in various ſpecu⯑lations upon different ſubjects, as they may be called to mind by what I ſee.

In my journal I find ſeveral things about French literature, of which I mean to give you ſome extracts, as memory and occa⯑ſions may anſwer.

[278]In France, and indeed throughout Eu⯑rope, all things ſeem in a perpetual change or progreſs, which is governed by faſhion. Even virtues, talents, change their places and degrees of eſtimation in a ſhort time. In one age, all for fighting; another, all for ſtudy. Since we began to prefer idle to active purſuits, and to take more credit for what we know and can talk of, than for what we can do, we have fancied every thing was to be learn⯑ed from reading books, when not too idle even for that occupation.

One perceives theſe things more obvi⯑ouſly here in France, though they proba⯑bly read leſs than you do. Some of their moſt ſenſible men, I think, place too much dependence on books, and almoſt forget that reading can never entirely ſupply the place of practical knowledge, though a very neceſſary aſſiſtance in order to know or do any thing well. To acquire univerſal learn⯑ing, they ſeem to think one has only to con⯑ſult their dictionaries—the form into which they have thrown every art and ſcience, [279] from cookery and hair-dreſſing, up to every uſeful trade and ſpecies of philoſophy: a manner of writing which may be of great utility to mankind, if they are taught to take it only for what it is worth, and not to depend on it too much. I wiſh ſuch books to be reduced in ſize and price; but they ſeem, on the contrary, growing bigger and dearer. They might be made to ſerve as memoranda in all the arts, but cannot teach them. Every thing that faci⯑litates knowledge to the people, and tends to render each art and ſcience univerſally known, muſt be of ſervice to mankind in general; and their benefit and conveni⯑ence is certainly at leaſt of equal conſe⯑quence with that of thoſe few who depend entirely on books for their knowledge, and who are not generally of ſuch im⯑portance to ſociety. You have obſerved, chez vous, ſome who, after the moſt labo⯑rious literary reſearches, were found to be novices among the firſt people of practice with whom they had any thing to do, till they began to diſcover how far behind real practice, books generally are in moſt of [280] the uſeful branches. They may be ne⯑ceſſary in every kind, even of practical knowledge, to a certain degree; but then you muſt know where to doubt, and when to leave them.

When the importance of education ſhall be better underſtood, and men ſhall have learnt to eſtimate things nearer to their real value, books may more nearly keep pace with practice, and be of more uſe to it; and mankind may not then be divided, as now, into two claſſes—the few who read and depend too much on books, and the many who do not read at all. Theory and practice may then become better ac⯑quainted with each other, and ſome prac⯑tical ſcience deſcend to the lower and moſt uſeful ranks of men.

In the French there is an apparent mu⯑tability, but at bottom a real ſameneſs of character, through all the known periods of their hiſtory. Although, in ſome former times, they may have ſtood higher as to [281] power, arts, ſcience, taſte, and great men, there are certain peculiarities which form ſo inſeparably a part of their character, that I believe they muſt have been nearly the ſame ſort of people at all periods, whether as ancient Gauls, or Francks, or modern French.

But with us Engliſh, there is a real fund of mutability, ſo to ſpeak, if we are conſidered either individually or nationally. You know we are reputed as changeable as our climate. We have been a very different ſort of people at different periods—before and after the Reformation, for example. We have taken a new cha⯑racter even ſince the Revolution, and differ much in our manners and diſpoſition ſince the time when Eraſmus viſited us; and in our temperament there are perhaps yet the ſeeds of future revolu⯑tions.

In the French I ſee no ſufficient cauſes of any great future change or progreſs; and they are not now perhaps capable of [282] procuring or executing any ſpecies of go⯑vernment, very different from, or better than, what they at preſent poſſeſs, and which is perhaps now ſo well adapted to their character, to their habits of think⯑ing, and ways of life, that a much better may not be wiſhed or expected.

There are doubtleſs many degrees of good, ſhort of perfection, which is not to be ob⯑tained in this world, though it is of vaſt conſequence to keep it in ſight, as well as the right to the freedom of inveſtigation. Since we ſee that theſe people can be tole⯑rably happy in their preſent condition, it may be ſaid that the ends of government are fully anſwered, as the beſt could do no more. Yet, as Engliſh, we muſt ſtill ſee deficiencies in this their preſent condition. With all the advantages of a natural, cheer⯑ful, and happy temper, together with the beſt government they can expect to en⯑joy, we muſt ſtill doubt if they ever can acquire that dignity of nature, and ſenſe of ſecurity, which can alone produce the efforts, the enterpriſe, the public ſpirit, and [283] progreſs of improvement, obſervable among a free people.

Their government muſt now, eſpecially in its internal operations, probably always partake of the national character, and of the defects incident to unlimited power —prudent and artful, raſh and unſteady, enterpriſing or indolent, by turns—wiſ⯑dom and folly, ſpirit and weakneſs, mixed, or alternately taking the lead. But the un⯑feeling indolence and arrogance of deſpot⯑iſm muſt perhaps be expected at length to predominate.

With ſuch a government, whoſe cha⯑racter and operations muſt at beſt depend ſo much on faſhion, or on the views and diſpoſition of an accidental miniſter, miſ⯑treſs, or favourite, and not upon a fixed conſtitution, meaſures muſt too frequently change with men; and the completion of any thing great, that requires much time, can hardly be expected.

[284]This muſt be underſtood only of their in⯑ternal or domeſtic government; for in their foreign politics they have generally been ſteady, deep, and artful; perhaps too artful, ſo as to create ſuſpicions, and put nations on their guard, and throw them into confe⯑deracies againſt their ſecret arts and grow⯑ing power.

LETTER XII. French Pre-eminence,—Arts,—Trades,— Intercourſe.

IN every country there is probably ſome⯑thing uſeful to be learnt; and to this, which has been ſo long the leading nation in Europe, we all reſort, on purpoſe to learn almoſt every thing. I think they deſerve that pre-eminence, in ſome things; though they themſelves are too apt to fancy that they do in all. They may go on to deſerve it ſtill more, by means of the very advantages attending that pre-eminence. Thoſe advantages are many and important. The various and valuable articles of com⯑merce, the motives to induſtry and exer⯑tion of mind, which the univerſality of their language and their faſhions have procured them, contribute much towards making them an induſtrious and almoſt [286] commercial people, in ſpite of their govern⯑ment, which is naturally rather careleſs and oppreſſive. Though the conceſſion of this pre-eminence gives them conceit, it brings emulation along with it, and promotes a beneficial activity in the provinces of taſte and uſeful ſcience. If the ſtate could be forced into more wiſdom and benevolence, it might employ more effectual means to⯑wards their preſerving the lead in many more things of real importance to national proſperity.

Even the article of books, which they write and print for all Europe, is no in⯑conſiderable means of both riches and of extenſive influence, though the Dutch have induſtriouſly drawn to themſelves a ſhare in this branch of trade. The univerſal prevalence of French modes and manners likewiſe facilitates their ſchemes in foreign politics, which I think they underſtand much better than they do the principles of domeſtic proſperity. This, with an aſſidu⯑ous and liberal attention to their miniſters and conſuls abroad, gives them an [287] aſcendency in all the courts, and a power⯑ful, though ſecret, influence, to the op⯑poſite extremities, of Europe. You know they govern Spain, though you all ſeem ignorant of the nature, hiſtory, and extent, of that connection: and I am told that they have been even attentive, like the Jeſuits, to the acquiring ſome ſecret influ⯑ence in the education of as many as they can of the young princes in Europe; and that they hope, by ſuch means, to guide the next Czar of Ruſſia, who is already much of a Frenchman.

If this reign continues ſteady to the prin⯑ciples in which it ſeems to begin, they may long lead and manage the politics of Europe ſecretly in their own way, and carry all before them.—Nay, you your⯑ſelves may now be only acting in obedi⯑ence to ſome of the ſecret impulſes given or promoted by this court. We already ſee, and may learn, from Madame Pompadour, and others, that one of their maxims will be, to perſuade all Europe that they ought to be jealous of the Engliſh, who muſt [288] therefore be brought down: and they may now ſucceed. It will probably long conti⯑nue a great object with each nation to reduce the other, even at the expence of reducing itſelf much more. How much better for each to try to raiſe both! but eſpecially for France, as ſhe would, in that progreſs, gain ſtill a greater ſuperiority. They might govern the world, if they could keep ſteady to their principles and to their allies, and not grow inſolent by ſucceſs. But perhaps that is not in human nature; and ſtill leſs in French nature. With ſuc⯑ceſs, a nation never knows where to ſtop. Greatneſs knows not where nor how to ſet bounds to itſelf, but generally overſhoots the mark, and wears itſelf out. Proſpe⯑rity not only ſpoils us, but creates us enemies. Our late ſucceſſes and ſupe⯑riority, in this century, cannot fail of producing yet more combinations againſt us, probably before the next.

But, as I was going to obſerve, though we are probably before them in moſt of the arts and trades, that are of the greateſt [289] uſe to mankind, yet there may be much to be learned in this country. The arts and trades form a very extenſive and cu⯑riouſly connected ſyſtem. Thoſe of dif⯑ferent countries, and even thoſe of the ſame country, have yet much to learn of each other. An intelligent artiſt or tradeſ⯑man will always find ſomething to learn in ſo active and induſtrious a nation as this; and I am pleaſed to ſee our manu⯑facturers travelling here:—our Bentleys, Coles, and others, from Birmingham, Man⯑cheſter, &c.

The provinces of taſte and utility are more intimately connected than the world in general have formerly imagined; and happily, the uſeful arts are not now beneath the attention of the ſcholar and the gen⯑tleman, while your tradeſmen are not all deſtitute of an uſeful and liberal education; though there is yet great room for amend⯑ment in that way. As thoſe claſſes ap⯑proach each other, the better it muſt be for the whole; for the different claſſes of arts, ſciences, and men, and for ſociety in [290] general. In moſt other countries, the fine and liberal arts are, as yet, the mere ap⯑pendages of luxury; they ſtand alone and aloof from the other arts, their poor relatives, and are therefore of little ſervice to the nation.

The philoſopher rejoices to ſee them deſcend among you to an acquaintance with their humble brethren; and all, by mutual aſſiſtance, promoting each other's intereſt, which then happily coincides with that of mankind. While you continue to know this, you will yet more liberally pro⯑mote and facilitate education in general; the reception and encouragement of ſtran⯑gers of merit; the travelling of proper ſtudents to other countries. Your differ⯑ent trades, companies, manufacturers, ſhould all zealouſly contribute to ſupport, for example, ſuch inſtitutions as your Royal Academy, with other more ſcientific ſchools, and enable them to ſend youth abroad: you may thereby go on to improve and preſerve ſuch a ſuperiority in every thing you produce, founded on ſcientific [291] and mechanical knowledge, and good taſte, as will force them into every country, even in ſpite of the confined and ſelfiſh views of their moſt fooliſh and tyrannical govern⯑ments.

But if ever you come to be ſo conceited as to fancy you want no ſuch foreign aſ⯑ſiſtance; that you can proudly ſtalk on alone, and ſtill preſerve your ſuperiority; it will be a certain ſymptom of decline. Shut up in your own iſland, you will quickly barbarize into circumſcribed na⯑tionalities; will ſink and follow the fate of all nations who have ever given up, or have been deprived of, a ſufficient inter⯑courſe with others. However, let not ſtudents of taſte ſtop long in France:—let them get on to Italy at leaſt, where ſome gems will always be found among their rubbiſh, by thoſe who can diſtinguiſh. Nay, Italy is yet the country—the capital of taſte—and the other nations are only the diſtant provinces of that empire. Thi⯑ther muſt all artiſts reſort to get rid of their provincial and vulgar manners. That [292] people, though now ſo deſpicable, if once united under a good government, I make no doubt would again ſoon rule the world. Their talents, their language, would ſoon appear to be capable of every thing, if theſe were once employed and exerciſed on objects worthy of their exer⯑tions.

LETTER XIII. French Converſation and Societies,—Lan⯑guage,—and Singing.

I WAS forming for you catalogues of French authors, with ſome ſhort re⯑marks, but I now learn that ſuch things have been already ſo often done, that it muſt be needleſs to fill up your letters with ſuch intelligence. The French, you know, have long and liberally encouraged all the arts and ſciences, and have generally pre⯑ſumed to take the lead in learning as well as in taſte; and, what has ſtill more in⯑fluence, it has lately become the faſhion, among both ſexes, to philoſophize, and form ſocieties for that purpoſe. If this taſte ſhould continue for a ſufficient length of time, the French ladies may prove to be very good philoſophers themſelves, and may help to make many others. They may be the means of extending knowledge, [294] and of producing ſuch beneficial effects as would here be impoſſible without their influence. Students may certainly meet in France with more aſſiſtance, and more readily in Paris, than with us, in conver⯑ſation, in public libraries, and lectures.

Converſation is the fort of this people. From thence we may gather more plea⯑ſure and improvement than any where elſe. They are ſo thoroughly agreeable and communicative, and always ready to give you all they know: ſo that the reading of a very few may ſerve the whole nation, and alſo benefit many of us viſitors. You may meet here with whole ſocieties, genteel, agreeable, and apparently well informed, where only one or two, or perhaps none of them, ever read; not even on the ſub⯑jects upon which their ſociety is formed, and their converſation chiefly turns. They pick up what they think ſufficient inform⯑ation, at ſecond or third hand, among their friends. The knowledge of one thus ſpreads through a great number; and hence their knack at talking ſo well on [295] ſubjects which they have never ſtudied, and which they ſurpriſe us by ſeeming to un⯑derſtand almoſt as well as many of thoſe who have gone through all the tedious forms of the ſchools.

It is difficult to gain admittance to the beſt company here, as well as every where elſe. Nor in any country do the comfort⯑able, little, ſenſible, and familiar, ſocieties eaſily admit of ſtrangers; and ſtill leſs of fo⯑reigners: but where, by letters or friends, you are once received, you will find them more communicative and agreeable than almoſt any where elſe. However, I think, the moſt ſenſible and beſt informed among them have, like thoſe among ourſelves, ſomething reſerved and retired, and even ſometimes un peu miſanthrope. Shall we doubt if knowledge encreaſes our happi⯑neſs? We may, — if the knowledge of men's follies and wickedneſs is to keep us perpetually out of humour with them.

Doubtleſs ſome of theſe obſervations muſt have often been made before, though [296] I have not ſeen them, having purpoſely rather avoided reading much on thoſe mat⯑ters, that I may, without prejudice, ſee with my own eyes. Others have occurred, on attending with a little more applica⯑tion than time and opportunities had hi⯑therto permitted me to give to their agree⯑able language,—to its ſounds and forma⯑tion. With all its defects, it is certain⯑ly the language of proſe, as ſomebody has obſerved; and more eſpecially of con⯑verſation. You ſee it has already been, and may ſtill be, of great ſervice to man⯑kind as a general and convenient medium of communication; and now in poſſeſſion of that privilege, will probably keep it, were it only from the central ſituation of this country; as ſeveral nations, in order to viſit each other, muſt paſs through France. The French ſeem formed for ſocial inter⯑courſe, and their language made on pur⯑poſe to indulge them in it.

Though their converſation is, in gene⯑ral, trivial, to a degree beyond what you [297] may conceive, yet the power of cuſtom or habit, together with their agreeable man⯑ner, their delicate pronunciation and phra⯑ſeology, will ſoon render moſt of it at leaſt ſupportable, and much of it highly agreeable. As we become greater adepts, and can expreſs ourſelves with eaſe, many new beauties and delicacies of the language begin to appear, and to pleaſe us. We become better pleaſed with ourſelves; and that helps greatly to embelliſh every thing around us. And among ſuch a variety of people, a choſen few may always be found who are at once learned, ſenſible, and agreeable.

Still I think, for ſome other purpoſes, this language is defective or limited. Con⯑ſiſting much of fixed idioms and favourite expreſſions, though clear and preciſe, with little variety of order or arrangement, in ſome reſearches it may, like books in ge⯑neral, carry the mind a certain length, or in a certain tract; but then it will tend to keep it there, and furniſh but little encouragement or aſſiſtance to go farther. For theſe, and [298] other ſimilar reaſons,—from an affectation and refinement peculiar to this people, and generally the fruits of civilization,—from the compoſition of its ſounds, articulations, and accents,—I think this language almoſt totally unfit for poetry, and entirely unfit for muſic. But to ſee how inſenſible the natives are to theſe defects of their own language, is vexatious and melancholy. One of the heavieſt taxes I have to pay for living among them is, being obliged to hear them ſing. For though their language is ſo to⯑tally unfit to be ſung, and they themſelves, with that unfortunate manner of theirs, ſuch horrid ſingers, yet, from one end of the kingdom to the other, they are eter⯑nally attempting it. I have more than once been obliged to change my habitation in order to get away from ſome ſinging coblers or ſervants. Our own manner of ſinging is not perhaps a great deal better; but we are not ſo fond of teazing other people with our performance.

Whenever we treat of ſounds, I think terms are wanting, and muſt probably be [299] always deficient or inadequate in repre⯑ſenting to the eye the objects of hearing. The French way of ſinging may be called a burſting, and the Engliſh a choking, manner: the firſt, an outrageous and vul⯑gar expreſſion of paſſion or of bodily pain; the ſecond is the expreſſion of nothing, but a kind of falſe and unfeeling notion of grace. Both have generally ſome kind of violence or uneaſineſs in the manner and expreſſion, which gives pain to the unac⯑cuſtomed hearer. The climate, the lan⯑guage, give generally to our northern fe⯑male voices a kind of harſh or defective tone; and to the men a hoarſe or choking one. It is only ſome of the baſs voices, in either France or England, that I can bear to hear with any pleaſure. The voices to the north of the Alps and the Py⯑rennees are all, I think, very diſtinguiſhable and defective.

LETTER XIV. On the Revival of Taſte and Science, and Decline.

WE have reaſon to be both thankful and ſurpriſed that ſcience and good taſte have recovered ſo much and ſo ſoon from the blows they have received at dif⯑ferent times, from various cauſes. They began to decline with the fall of the Greek empire, and almoſt totally expired with that of the Romans, by the irruptions of the rude northern nations. Their revival was long prevented by that exceſs of wild devotion which cautioned and prejudiced the people againſt the prophane learning of the Gentiles, and baniſhed almoſt all ideas of the beautiful and ſublime. Latterly, after a conſiderable reſtoration of taſte and ſcience, by the Italians, and the riches of the church, our happy reformation cer⯑tainly reverted a little towards barbariſm, [301] by a puritanical enthuſiaſm; and by ex⯑cluding the fine arts from the temples, gave them a check which all your riches of commerce and freedom have not yet been able to recover; nor probably ever will, till you become liberal-minded enough to admit them again to that ſanctuary. Ge⯑nius requires the attention of a whole pub⯑lic, and her works muſt be judged by the world at large. The private wealth and private houſes of rich individuals, though a conſiderable aſſiſtance, can never, I fear, prove an encouragement nor a theatre ſuf⯑ficient to excite her greateſt exertions, or to inſpire her ſublimeſt enthuſiaſm. Though our church is now neither ſo rich nor ſo powerful as formerly, yet ſhe might ſtill encourage the arts, and might furniſh the motives they probably want the moſt, viz. thoſe proceeding from honour, competition, liberality, public ſpi⯑rit, devotion.

Your Royal Academy, while directed by the good ſenſe and good taſte of a man who forms an aera in his country, doubtleſs [302] has done, and may yet do, much towards the revival of true taſte: and it might yet do more, if half of thoſe works it has pro⯑duced could be kept together, to form a laſting exhibition,—a perpetual ſchool, and a viſible hiſtory of the progreſs of the arts; whereas the effects of thoſe works are al⯑moſt loſt by their diſperſion and diſappear⯑ance after a ſhort glance of the public eye. Greater and more magnificent, more pub⯑lic as well as more permanent exhibitions and encouragements, are neceſſary. Ho⯑nour and fame are the great objects of ge⯑nius, more than pecuniary rewards, which, by a wiſe and liberal admixture of honours and attentions, may be oeconomiſed and made juſt ſufficient, for they may be too great as well as too ſmall;—ſo far are riches alone from being competent to the purpoſes in queſtion. The advantages of the churches, and of a few public galleries, contribute greatly to maintain a taſte in the arts in ſome countries, even in ſpite of the op⯑preſſions of poverty and deſpotiſm.

[303]It may be time to take precautions like⯑wiſe againſt another ſource of the decline or corruption of taſte. The love of orna⯑ment is progreſſive, and inſenſibly ſteals upon us, with the progreſs of civilization and refinement, to a vicious exceſs: and they who bring us back towards ſimpli⯑city, before we entirely loſe the reliſh for it, ſurely deſerve well of the public. I ſuſpect your having lately advanced too far in this career. Let us hope that your gen⯑tlemen of taſte and ſcience, your preſident and ſome others of your firſt artiſts, may ſucceed in correcting or recovering you from that diſtempered taſte which, I fear, was leading you faſt towards a decline, through the uſual road of indulgence in perpetual change and novelty, long before you had reached the ſummit of elegant ſimplicity and the true ſublime. Your co⯑lifichet of a thing for a public bank, certain houſes, rooms, and cielings, gave but too many indications of your going too faſt and too far. Perhaps no ornamental archi⯑tecture higher than the Doric, or at moſt the Ionic, ought to appear to the open air, [304] in your climate, and more eſpecially in great public buildings. Of the fine arts, architecture is probably the firſt that does and ſhould improve, and has a tendency to give a tone and ſome limits to the reſt. But perhaps it cannot ſo ſoon advance to any great height in a brick country.

Beſides, the taſte of commerce and of ſuddenly acquired riches, is ſeldom chaſte. The poſſeſſors are in too great haſte to en⯑joy every thing with a coarſe and untu⯑tored appetite; they muſt have butter to their pork, as the Spaniards ſay. It is the rich bourgeoiſie—les parvenus, who lead us on to thoſe vicious exceſſes in ornamental taſte, while the people of real faſhion and knowledge ſtrive to keep us back within the bounds of good ſenſe and moderation. Let us therefore encourage the ſimple and ſublime, while we have yet ſome reliſh and ſome advocates for it. It is to be hoped that one who ſhould build like Jones ^*, or write like Swift, would ſtill be liked.

[305]You know I am a ſtaunch advocate for viſiting other countries, as a neceſſary part of education. In ſhort, I think all who can, ſhould travel, and eſpecially your artiſts. Without this, the arts cannot be ſuſtained among you, not even up to their preſent degree of mediocrity. Without a conſtant communication with other na⯑tions, your taſte and your works of art will be apt to favour of your ſeparate and inſular ſituation. You will get into nar⯑row and limited paths of your own, and become mere manieriſts, at beſt; and your productions will be marked and vulgarized by ſomething peculiar, like a provincial accent: or when you venture out beyond ſuch limits, you will probably be enticed into thoſe of Affectation.—Pray beware of that bewitching jade:—but I think few of the moderns can entirely eſcape her.—It ſeems as if ſhe had taken up her principal abode in this country.

Your travellers ſhould not all be confined to certain faſhionable tracts. There are countries as yet not much explored, where even the works of art may be worthy of [306] ſome attention; and others where thoſe of nature, of ſociety and manners, aſſume to us unknown, but never unintereſting, ap⯑pearances. You ſhould ſometimes get out of Europe, were it only to look back upon her at a diſtance, and there conſider, com⯑pare, and eſtimate, her arts, her ſuperiority, her ſameneſs, from new and different points of view. Spain, the north and eaſt of Europe, may furniſh many objects intereſt⯑ing to the artiſt and philoſopher, and not yet much known. And beyond thoſe limits, among Moors, Turks, Tartars, and other Aſiatics, you may gain more various and enlarged conceptions of mankind; and you may there eaſier gueſs at what the Greeks and Romans were:—other ideas of grace and manner may then occur which you could never have acquired in Europe. Our notions of what is graceful are too apt to be confined and local,—either na⯑tional, vulgar, affected, or faſhionable: even that which is reputed genteel in one country, will not be admitted to be ſo in another, and is often, in fact, only ſome temporary or whimſical kind of affectation.

LETTER XV. On Women.

THE women of this country, their ſingular, and, I think, ſuperior, cha⯑racter, claim a great ſhare of attention both from the natives and ſtrangers; and tend to furniſh me with ſome perhaps new ideas and ſpeculations on this and other connected ſubjects. The natural eaſe and boldneſs of their manner and deportment, the numberleſs graces of their addreſs and converſation, their familiarity and facility of acceſs, their reſtleſs vivacity, their ex⯑tenſive knowledge, the credit and weight of their opinions, are all very ſtriking to a ſtranger; and being generally enough known, I ſhall not dwell upon them. Our ideas of their indelicacy being meaſured by a ſtandard of our own, and taken from the [308] exceſſive nicety of our own petits maitres et petites maitreſſes, other nations do not readily admit of nor underſtand. However, I think the two nations may in many ways improve each other; and a female charac⯑ter, formed of the beſt qualities of both, might be ſuperior to either: our ladies might perhaps be improved by the acquiſi⯑tion of ſome of their franchiſe and bolder graces; and theirs, in their turn, by a little of our female naïveté, ſenſibility, and ingenuous ſimplicity.

You know I have long entertained ſome opinions concerning women, and the fe⯑male character in general, which may ap⯑pear rather ſingular to ſome, though not to you; and in which I am the more con⯑firmed by what I have been led to think and obſerve here. You and Twee have contributed largely to lead me into theſe notions, and are therefore bound to cor⯑rect and improve them^*. I think then, that [309] women have nowhere yet attained their proper place and uſes in ſociety,—not even here in poliſhed Europe,—though the ex⯑ample of this leading nation ſhews us at leaſt the poſſibility of it, and that we may now be in a progreſs towards the right ideas on this point.

I have thought that the beſt remedies to thoſe evils mentioned in my laſt, and to many others, may be hoped for, from the admiſſion of women to a better education, and to more influence in the councils of taſte and learning; and it might perhaps be as well if they were not entirely exclud⯑ed from any other councils. Happily they [310] ſeem of late to have gradually riſen in conſideration and utility in this and ſome other countries, and it is hoped they may go on to riſe to that equality with men in natural rights, and in the uſe of their ta⯑lents, which ſeems intended by nature. The rank and conſideration of the ſex muſt probably always follow the degrees of civilization. Yet, in the hiſtory of na⯑tions, we ſee great variety in this; and we know from Sparta, that a wiſe govern⯑ment might do much towards modeling their character, and directing their edu⯑cation to the public good.

From ſuch gradual improvement of the ſex, and hence in the conſtitution of ſoci⯑ety, conſiſts the only hope I can ſee of a remedy to that growing diſpoſition to in⯑dulgence, affectation, and perpetual change, which attends on civilization, arts, and taſte, and which ſo ſoon entices us out of the paths of good ſenſe, that we are ſo long in finding, and which finally leads to ruin. In Europe, to ſtop this progreſſion, would not probably be either practicable or [311] advantageous: to retard or direct it aright, ſeems to be the object that we ſhould keep in view, and can only be attained by the aſſiſtance of the other ſex. Of the attempts of eaſtern legiſlators to arreſt the natural progreſs and improvement of the human ſpecies, the effects and ſucceſs have not been ſuch as to be recommended or imi⯑tated in Europe. Were this a country of freedom, and the female education to go on to be yet more liberal and manly, in addition to their preſent numerous and agreeable acquirements, from the joint en⯑deavours of both ſexes, I can conceive this might then be a pattern of good govern⯑ment, and, as a central and leading nation, might really improve the reſt of Europe.

The talents or abilities of the ſexes are probably nearly equal, when equally culti⯑vated: or, if ſome mental conſtitutional differences exiſt, theſe are not greater than between individuals of the ſame ſex, and not beyond the power of habit and educa⯑tion to aſſimilate and equalize.

[312]Among the moſt perfect animals, the ſexes ſeem to approach the neareſt to equality. In the human ſpecies it is diffi⯑cult to determine which ſex has the advan⯑tage. In conſidering thoſe ſmall native differences, I am ſometimes inclined to give it in favour of the female character. If the men have ſome important advantages in mental and bodily force, the female mind ſeems to inherit others more nume⯑rous, and to be more univerſal. Formed, as it were, of a finer paſte, women ſeem to poſſeſs greater degrees of ſenſibility,— quicker and nicer perceptions. They are thereby admirably well conſtituted to be our companions and aſſiſtants in almoſt every occupation; more tractable, eaſier taught, and moulded into habits, they poſſeſs from nature, or can ſooner ac⯑quire, the moſt eſſential habit of controll⯑ing and regulating ſelf indulgence. They can thus more eaſily ſtop the ſource of the moſt deſtructive paſſions, and hence of the greateſt evils in life: and, when once raiſed to all the influence and knowledge of which they are capable, they may teach us to do the ſame.

[313]On temperance, or the management of indulgence, depend our beſt habits and diſpoſitions,—the enjoyment of everything, —the duration of good taſte, of life, of ſo⯑ciety itſelf.

Even now, if we were ſtrictly to eſti⯑mate the conſolations the ſex afford us, the patience and other virtues they teach us, how much of our happineſs, and even of our wiſdom, proceeds from them, we ſhould perhaps be aſtoniſhed, and too proud or aſhamed to ſtate fairly the ac⯑count.—How much more might we not expect from their talents and their virtues, if theſe were properly improved by edu⯑cation! We may venture to predict that they will always anſwer and repay all the endeavours and attentions we may chuſe to beſtow on their education; and will gene⯑rally keep up to any opinion and expecta⯑tions we may venture to entertain of their character and abilities; and, in ſhort, will always be nearly what we chuſe them to be. I think I have obſerved, in ſeveral different countries, that wherever the men [314] and women live, and are moſt employed, together, there reſults a ſimilarity of cha⯑racter,—the powers and exertions, the good order, of the whole, are much encreaſed. Such are the countries in the northern mountains of Spain, among ſome of thoſe in Switzerland, Germany, and, remarka⯑bly ſo, here in France. The effects of a thorough ſubordination and ſeparation be⯑tween the ſexes, as in Aſia, the character and condition of ſociety in ſuch countries, are well enough known, it is hoped, to put us on our guard againſt every thing that has a tendency towards ſuch abſurd and pernicious tyranny, the natural enemy of ſocial happineſs, and of all the elegant arts in life. From the conſtant intercourſe and mutual inclinations of the ſexes, and their perpetual efforts to pleaſe, proceed all the fine arts and elegant refinements, and moſt of our beſt habits. Women ſhould per⯑haps take the lead in theſe, as naturally the beſt judges of elegance of every kind, in men and things, perſonal and intellec⯑tual.

[315]Fine taſte in Greece and Rome has been ſeen to decline through an exceſs of orna⯑ment; and, in more modern times, we have ſeen her take nearly the ſame route, through the concetti of Italy, and the cul⯑tos of Spain: and I ſuppoſe we have no right to expect that the leading nations of the preſent age, France and England, can avoid the downhill paths that ſeem marked out by nature for arts and civilization. If poſſible to retard or avert this natural de⯑cline, or to change its courſe, I think it muſt be done by the good education and joint endeavours of both ſexes.

Though a proper education has ſeldom but by accident fallen to the lot of women, thoſe accidental inſtances are in favour of the probability of ſucceſs, if more generally attempted. The pains beſtowed on them are ſeldomer, I believe, thrown away than on the other ſex. As we open to them the ſources of ſcience, and of the moſt manly virtues, we ſhall find they will plentifully partake. Their more pliant character and underſtandings will be readily raiſed and [316] improved, and they will amply repay us with intereſt, as companions and aſſiſtants, as mothers and tutors.

The union of acquired dignity with their natural ſoftneſs, of the manly with the be⯑nevolent virtues, would produce the moſt extenſive and beneficial effects on ſociety: and accordingly I think we find the few accompliſhed learned and manly female characters, that are known in hiſtory and in our own times, have generally had all the ſucceſs, and have produced the effects, here indicated; and they have been the means of raiſing themſelves, and mankind around them, to their higheſt honours. Among the inſtances that may be taken from the times of chivalry,—from Eng⯑land, Ruſſia, and from the catalogue of ſovereigns in general,—the females cer⯑tainly outſhine the males, in proportion to their numbers. And all know the influ⯑ence and importance of great and wiſe women, in families as in empires, from the mother of the Gracchi down to our preſent queen.

[317]When we become wiſe and liberal enough to elevate and improve, and ſuf⯑ficiently conſult, the ſex, we may acquire from them every virtue and every ſenti⯑ment that leads moſt directly to happineſs. They will teach us to control our paſ⯑ſions, to regulate and oeconomiſe our pleaſures, and, inſtead of promoting, they will ſet bounds to luxury and indulgence, and will ſtop the decline of good taſte with that of manners and morals.

LETTER XVI. The ſame Subject continued.

YOU may be ſure I am pleaſed that you agree with ſome of the opinions ha⯑zarded in my laſt. I ſhall go on to finiſh what I have to ſay on the ſubject, though the digreſſion ſhould extend farther than I may yet foreſee. I do not pretend to build a new ſyſtem, only to mend the old; nor to turn women into men, but to make them yet more uſeful and agreeable to us. And I think the objections you mention, and ſeveral others, would be eaſily anſwer⯑ed.—But I ſhall only detain you by a few more remarks as they occur.

Though we ſhould grant that our living ſo much with the women indiſcriminately, as the French do here, might not anſwer ſo well for us at preſent; and though the [319] company of the giddy and unthinking fair might, at firſt, tend to enervate and induce to idleneſs, and neglect of more ſerious and uſeful application; give them a liberal education, and ſuitable employ, and the danger will ceaſe. If ſome of them are now too gay and thoughtleſs, the beſt remedy will be the endeavouring to make them leſs ſo, and not by running away from them. While we preclude them from every oc⯑cupation that gives ſelf-importance, from all management of the public, and even of their own affairs, we have no right to com⯑plain of the conſequences, of which a life and character of idleneſs and diſſipation may be among the leaſt pernicious. To attempt depriving them of their natural in⯑fluence, would be futile, and a beginning at the wrong end; rather qualify them to exert it to ſome good purpoſes. If, by the addition of knowledge, reaſon, and dig⯑nity, they become quite irreſiſtible, ſo much the better then;—they are nearly ſo now, without all thoſe qualifications. In ſhort, ſince we have begun to raiſe the ſex from ſervitude, we muſt probably go on, till we [320] bring them as near to an equality as nature will permit. There is no medium in this. They cannot ſtop long where they are. Every remaining mark of inferiority only ſo far debaſes their minds, and ſets them upon reſtoring that equality by ſecret and ſiniſter arts, which muſt participate too much of deceit. We muſt, doubtleſs, al⯑low them every art or artifice that tends to render them more amiable, et a far la ri⯑troſa, where nature ſeems to have made it neceſſary,—but no more. While we render it neceſſary in moſt of their conduct, we ſhall have to complain of their deceit and duplicity.

Moſt of the preſent ſtriking differences between the male and female character, are more the effect of art than of nature; ſuch is the power of education, which ought to be employed in improving, and not in debaſing nature; and ſhould not be uſed to widen that ſeparation, but rather in bringing them nearer to⯑gether.

[321]The female dreſs ſhould have a nearer reſemblance to that of men,—and eſpecially when they ride, which they ſhould alſo do like us. In England, their preſent ſilly and perilous mode of riding is aſcribed to Queen Elizabeth,—but it is now ſurely high time to leave it off. I rejoice to ſee that ſome women of faſhion have ſenſe and ſpirit enough to adopt, on that occaſion, our dreſs nearly, and our manner of riding entirely, and in moſt other countries, to ſee it common with all ranks: and to ſee the female riding-dreſs approaching gradually towards a reſemblance to ours. They ought to wear drawers under their preſent, or ſome more graceful, long dreſs; though not quite ſo long as the preſent faſhion: the ſex would certainly gain by ſhewing a little more of their legs:—there is a juſt medium between ſhewing all and concealing all. Such things, though appa⯑rently trifling, may have great influence on the female character.

But the French muſt probably long lead the faſhions in dreſs, and ſeveral other [322] things. How many follies, and how many improvements, does Europe owe to this nation? Had it not been for the pre⯑valence of their manners, Italian and Spa⯑niſh jealouſy would probably have extend⯑ed throughout Europe, ſo as to exclude the ſex almoſt entirely from ſociety; whence arts and civilization would gradually have diſappeared,—deſpotiſm—barbariſm would again have reigned over the face of the earth. However, in this of preſcribing our dreſs, it is rather doubtful if they are entitled to the authority they have ſo long aſſumed and exerciſed, with ſuch a mix⯑ture of ſenſe and levity, of good and falſe taſte. In their purſuit of variety, it is however rather ſurpriſing that they have hardly ever ſtumbled upon any dreſs of good ſenſe,—on ſome Greek or other graceful and convenient mode of clothing ourſelves. We alſo owe to them this vio⯑lent and ridiculous difference of appear⯑ance between the ſexes, as if they were animals of a different ſpecies. The mode of dreſs I think of more importance than [323] generally believed:—but I will not detain you with it.

Every thing that tends to produce an equality and reſemblance between the ſexes, I think of conſequence; and to me it is pleaſant to ſee them approaching towards it in this country;—though one would rather wiſh the women to become more manly, than the men more feminine, which is too often the caſe here. Though we act the tyrants over the female part of ſociety with more politeneſs than in ſome former and ruder times, yet all the roman⯑tic nonſenſe of modern gallantry and af⯑fected regard for the ſex, the remains of chivalry, though better than nothing, we know to be an inſufficient reſtraint on man, and on his real power and aſſumed ſupe⯑riority. I fear nothing but a legal and acknowledged equality, and a liberal edu⯑cation, can ſecure to women their natural rights and influence, nor give to ſociety all the benefits of their powers and talents.

[324]Many of thoſe female weakneſſes which we term delicacy, &c. and pretend to ad⯑mire, we ſecretly laugh at;—or when our taſte is ſo far vitiated as really to like them, it is chiefly from their being ſymptoms of inferiority and ſubordination, that ſooths and feeds our pride and domineering ſpirit. In that road we may go on to endleſs and unnatural refinements, if not controlled in time;—but for that purpoſe we want wiſe and manly women, who, for our ſakes and their own, muſt ſhame us out of ſuch nonſenſical weakneſs, and bring us back to ſenſe and nature. Beauty belongs more to ſtrength than to weakneſs.—Nay, force is neceſſary to beauty and graceful motion. The beſt ſtatues of Venus, and ſtill more of Diana, are ſo well proportioned as to give ideas at once of ſtrength, agility, and of beauty. Strength of body and of mind are perfectly compatible with ſoft⯑neſs and gentleneſs of manner.

Though it has been obſerved that mind is of no ſex, yet there muſt doubtleſs be always ſome obvious and radical diſtinc⯑tions [325] between us in character and occupa⯑tion. I only plead for thoſe diſtinctions being reduced to what is abſolutely neceſ⯑ſary, and no more. The reſemblance can never be complete, and muſt ever be ſuf⯑ficiently limited by nature. The merits and effects of this way of proceeding would depend more on the conſtant en⯑deavours towards an approximation than in the completion of it; as human happi⯑neſs, in general, conſiſts more in action than in the acquiſition of that reſt and re⯑poſe which ſeems to be the only object of all our activity.—Only remove the too great diverſity and ſeparation of our occu⯑pations and education; let the taſks of life be properly divided between us, and carried on by mutual aſſiſtance wherever it is practicable, and they will be much bet⯑ter performed. Then the great diverſity in education will become not only leſs neceſ⯑ſary, but ſtill more inconvenient and per⯑nicious.

LETTER XVII. The ſame Subject continued.

I CAN readily obey you, and go on with the favourite ſubject of my laſt, though the digreſſion may appear tedious to ſome of your ſociety. You, and certain French ladies, led me into it, and others come juſt apropos to detain me there. Some of them are certainly charming creatures! ſo live⯑ly! ſo intelligent! et remplies d' eſprit, de graces, et de ſcience. We have juſt been to ſee palaces, churches, and pictures, with Madame M—. Her converſation is de⯑lightful,—free and manly, yet with ſuffi⯑cient delicacy for me, though not perhaps for all of you, with your cold Engliſh re⯑finements.—Her obſervations ſhewed great judgment, taſte, and even genius. She has been criticiſing their philoſophers, one by one, in a fine ſtrain of graceful good [327] humour and good ſenſe, and with a fund of ſcience, as yet but too little known among our Engliſh ladies.—But ſhe un⯑luckily would favour us with ſome of her choſen airs d' operà,—et d' un gout et d' une maniere,—a faire pitié,—enfin nationale.— What a pity they cannot have a better taſte in muſic,—but, I fear, it is impoſſible with ſuch a language as theirs.

Perhaps it is happy for this country that the women have acquired ſuch influence, take the lead, and govern in almoſt every thing: and hence it is perhaps, that things go on ſo much better than could be ex⯑pected with ſuch an arbitrary and unfeel⯑ing government. Though this is a corrupt and intriguing kind of influence, and would be far better if eſtabliſhed and avowed, yet even now it is much better than none. They are probably the means of mitigating the follies and natural ſeveri⯑ties of tyranny, and the cauſe of much good being done which would otherwiſe be neglected; and, in conjunction with the philoſophers, they may come to guide [328] and direct the public opinion, which muſt always be reſpected by the moſt abſolute governments, and is ſo here, to a degree you might not expect.

Although, with us, the impediments to the elevation and proper employment of women, are probably greater than in France, from certain differences in opi⯑nions, manners, and ways of life, and as the ſexes with you are not occupied, nor live together ſo much as they do here; yet we too can boaſt of many excellent female characters, and of ſeveral of thoſe ſelf-taught female writers who have made a figure, and have probably done ſome good to mankind by their writings. Our women are certainly formed by nature equal at leaſt to any others in ſeveral eſ⯑ſential qualities,—in beauty, in ſentiment, —with the fineſt hearts and affections,— warm and ſteady in their attachments. But we cannot contradict the ſtranger, who finds them generally cold and reſerved in converſation. Their apparently inſipid man⯑ner probably ſtrikes foreigners, who will [329] require time and experience to diſcover that there can be any warmth of ſoul un⯑der ſuch cold appearances. However, an uſeful and manly education, built upon ſuch ſolid good qualities, would give them a prodigious ſuperiority.

Private domeſtic education I think ge⯑nerally the beſt, eſpecially for females. If this ſhould luckily ever prevail over that of boarding-ſchools, the defects of the latter muſt ſurely become more and more con⯑ſpicuous; for they will probably grow worſe as the expence of them increaſes. The world will ſurely ſoon begin to ſee that the time and money beſtowed,—the falſe and uſeleſs ideas,— the habits of idle⯑neſs, indifference, or extravagance, all too generally acquired in thoſe ſeminaries,—is paying much too dear for the chance of a few very unimportant accompliſhments, and in which ſo few make any progreſs equal to what they probably would do at home. Though ſome of thoſe ſchools are well conducted by excellent and valuable women, yet ſuch places can never ſuffici⯑ently [330] reſemble families, which are the foundation of ſociety, and the materials of which it is formed; and in them all the duties and habits of life ſhould be acquired.

Mothers, though frequently with us, as yet, but moderately accompliſhed, might nevertheleſs inſtruct their children and themſelves, at the ſame time, by a very little foreign aſſiſtance. In this way we might produce more ſuperior female cha⯑racters, and more mothers properly quali⯑fied for this duty; and we ſhould thereby, in my opinion, improve the world very faſt.

Nor can I conceive with ſome, that we ſhould have leſs, but certainly more, con⯑jugal happineſs in the world, by an increaſe of female wiſdom and knowledge,—by means of more numerous and more im⯑portant objects of mutual intercourſe and employ. I have known examples that confirm me in this opinion; nor can I re⯑linquiſh it on account of one or two ſtu⯑dious females, who have been perhaps too [331] much engroſſed by ſome favourite branch of ſtudy, and who might ſeem to neglect themſelves and their families in other things.

It is generally admitted that there are many more employments and profeſſions well adapted to the talents and temperament of women than they have yet exerciſed among you, and which they might pro⯑bably fill with at leaſt as much credit and propriety as men:—but in all, I would have both ſexes to join in ſome degree, and each to lend the helping hand of relief, whenever it is poſſible. Women might be of great uſe in all the learned and ſeden⯑tary profeſſions: theſe, in my opinion, might then be carried to greater perfec⯑tion, and with much leſs confinement to the ſtudious, if both ſexes were properly qualified to aſſiſt and relieve each other. There is not a more unnatural being than a man whoſe life is totally engroſſed by what we moderns call learning. The con⯑finement and excluſive attention to books will generally deſtroy or impair his natu⯑ral [332] vigour and activity, till he becomes a weak, unhealthy, and a very helpleſs crea⯑ture.

Women we have ſeen, in ſome coun⯑tries, uniting their exertions with thoſe of their huſbands and relations, even in labo⯑rious employments; and I am glad to find that of late it has become more cuſtomary in your manufacturing counties.

Proceeding on this principle, I think that the children of both ſexes ſhould be edu⯑cated together and alike, as far as propri⯑ety and manners would admit, which would be far enough for every good pur⯑poſe, if it were once the cuſtom. But we are now prejudiced and accuſtomed to a ſeparate and totally different education, as if we were beings of a different ſpecies, without connection or intercourſe, and each ſex is to be prepared for employments or profeſſions in which the other is not even ſuppoſed to judge, and therefore cannot aſſiſt. In families where brothers and ſiſ⯑ters are brought up a good deal together, [333] it has been obſerved that both are the bet⯑ter for it; and the moſt manly of the ſiſters, who keep up the neareſt to the brothers in their laborious exerciſes or em⯑ployments, are generally every way the ſuperior characters.

Men who are ſubject to the mean jea⯑louſy or fear of female learning or accom⯑pliſhments, inſtead of making uſe of them, are certainly not the fitteſt to dictate in this matter. Nor do we find thoſe who pretend to be ſo highly diſguſted with learned or maſculine women, to be the moſt manly or learned of men. That little jea⯑louſy or diſlike we may rather conſider as an indication of ſome meanneſs, falſe delicacy, or other deficiency of character or educa⯑tion. We had much better improve and make uſe of their talents, and we ſhould then find them of infinite uſe to us in many ſubjects. When we act the legal tyrants, and frame laws, regulations, and opinions, that concern both ſexes, we ought certainly to conſult the other, eſpe⯑cially [334] when they become capable and wor⯑thy of being conſulted.

We Engliſh, I fear, were the fartheſt ſpoiled, and were becoming quite ſingular, in theſe feminine ideas of delicacy; we were growing really ridiculous, till ſome ladies of rank and good ſenſe, I am happy to ſee, are bringing again into faſhion to be manly and unaffected. Some of your little ſnarling authors, too, pretended to join the cry, and to dictate their little national prejudices for the government of the fe⯑male world: but I hope your ladies will have courage enough to go on to be as manly or learned as they pleaſe; they will have the men of ſenſe, and the laugh, on their ſide, againſt the fribbles and triflers, who are, to be ſure, as yet by far too nu⯑merous among you, and who are not yet aſhamed to miſcall your manly and reſo⯑lute women by the opprobrious names of maſculine creatures, horſe god-mothers, &c.

While in this diſpoſition, which you may think too French and too favourable [335] to the female part of the ſpecies, I am in⯑clined to believe it highly probable that the greateſt perfection of which ſociety is ca⯑pable, may depend greatly on this approxi⯑mating equality of the ſexes,—on our ac⯑cumulated talents and joint endeavours being applied to moſt of the ſtudies and occupations in life, and thereby all the powers of both being brought into uſe.

All the countries I have ſeen have helped to confirm me in theſe opinions,—thoſe where men and women are the moſt ſepa⯑rated, as well as thoſe where they live moſt together; and I think the advances and ci⯑vilization of the ſpecies may every where be meaſured by the degrees of general in⯑timacy and intercourſe of the ſexes.

LETTER XVIII. Education.

THOSE ideas of women, into which I have been led by you, and the manly agreeable females of this country, have induced me to think and inquire about education, which alſo appears to me here, I think, in ſome new points of view. The ſchool education in France is ſeldom, I fancy, preferable to our own, and often worſe, though that of the world may be better with them. Their ſeminaries and colleges are ſtill ſo over-loaded with ſuper⯑ſtitious ceremonies, as to impede the pro⯑greſs in uſeful knowledge, and to terrify reaſon out of her way. However, ſociety and converſation afterwards make ſome amends for thoſe early errors and deficien⯑cies; and though this occaſions a loſs, at leaſt of time, it ſerves to ſhew the advan⯑tages [337] of educating more by converſe and practice than by books, and the probability of ſucceſs, if we were to apply the minds of youth rather more to practical and uſe⯑ful objects, than to books and ſpeculative ſyſtems. This was the manner of the ancients, and we may regret that it is not yet more practiſed among us.

Your national predilection in favour of too frequent a ſeparation of the ſexes, even in their earlieſt inſtructions, with other ſimilar ideas of falſe delicacy, I begin here to conſider as the produce and the bane of miſtaken civilization, and as impediments to a right education of both ſexes. Unleſs ſome wiſe legiſlature, or ſome female good ſenſe, come in time to your aſſiſtance, I fear you may go ſtill farther into the errors and extremes of a refine⯑ment which knows no bounds, and which has a tendency to increaſe that ſeparation of the ſexes, perhaps at length to an Aſiatic degree. If theſe ideas ſhould extend, the conſequences would be ruinous to Europe. Among the leaſt pernicious of them would probably be that of beſtowing a ſtill greater proportion of pains on what [338] is called the minds of youth, to the utter neglect of many graceful and manly exer⯑ciſes, uſeful and ornamental abilities, which uſed to be acquired with a view to pleaſe each other. Their heads would then be more unmercifully ſtuffed with theories and ſpeculations, without practice or ap⯑plication to any thing uſeful; and their hearts, or moral part, would then be left to chance, and to the company of their own ſex, with full liberty to make very great ſavages of one another.

In your higher ranks, I fear it is often from not having been taught any uſeful knowledge in their youth, that we have ſeen ſo many country gentlemen, and others, neglect the ſtudies of their early years, becauſe they furniſh neither amuſe⯑ment nor utility in the common affairs o [...] their lives. And among your lower claſſes it is ſtill a greater ſhame and pity to fin [...] education ſo defective, and your police i [...] many things ſo wretched; and to ſee, i [...] nations and governments, ſo far inferio [...] to yours, the miſerable inhabitants appear⯑ing [339] ſo much more poliſhed, civilized, and converſible, than your free-born Engliſh⯑men.

In your happy government, where no one is confined to the rank in which he was born, a free ſcope is given to the genius and induſtry of all, to better their condition, and proportionally to riſe in im⯑portance; you, therefore, owe to each, an education equal at leaſt to his intended rank and condition, and perhaps to that of the next above him: for numbers among you are daily riſing, by their wealth, into ſtations and offices in life for which they are found to be totally unprepared and unfit, and are thereby worſe than loſt to the community. This may be a cauſe of more people appear⯑ing to be miſplaced, chez vous, in office or dignity, than in countries where merit is not ſo profeſſedly attended to. Occaſions may ariſe with people in office ſo very im⯑properly placed, as to be the ruin of the nation. If it is meant to keep the people ignorant from policy, I am pretty ſure it is falſe policy, and tout calcul fait, you will [340] find that the want of education is a loſs of power, and a great hindrance to the ad⯑vances of a nation in all the arts, beſides the injury done to morals, manners, and civilization. We have never found the Scotch to be worſe, but certainly better qualified for moſt things, for having ſo generally received ſome education in their youth: their common people are therefore more temperate, frugal, and better be⯑haved,—confeſſedly of a moral character ſuperior to the people of the ſouthern and richer provinces. This is well known both in the land and ſea ſervice.

By good education, I mean virtuous habits and uſeful knowledge, at leaſt that is the beſt general definition that I can think of at preſent. No rank in ſociety ſhould remain without ſome ſhare of theſe, ſuch as is ſuited to their condition. Why ſhould not even the loweſt ranks learn writing, and ſome of the uſes of numbers, and many of them ſome geometry and mechanics in a practical way? By the la⯑bour of learning theſe,—by the very act [341] of going regularly to ſchool, together with ſome proper and practical moral inſtruction there; we know that excellent effects may be produced, and that the important habits of regularity and application, obedience and oeconomy, may in this way be given to the people, in ſhort, a moral character ſuperior to that of your preſent lower claſſes.

There are not probably any where ſo many liberal and public-ſpirited gentlemen as in your iſland; and yet I fear, through⯑out the country, the ſupply is not equal to the demand; and in moſt public depart⯑ments, there is too obvious a want of uſeful and ſcientific knowledge, as well as among your tradeſmen and country ſquires, which is indeed becoming almoſt proverbial, now that you are, it is hoped, ceaſing to deſerve the imputation.

The vulgarity and ignorance which we have too often ſeen a great deal too high in office—I am aſhamed to think how high; in ſhort, the deficiencies in our education, [342] I fear are yet ſuch as may long keep the nation down, far beneath its natural place and eſtimation in the ſcale of Europe and of the world. When foreigners ſee theſe things, they are aſtoniſhed at our ſuperio⯑rity, unacquainted with the powers of our conſtitution: that conſtitution not having yet produced a better education for all ranks, I cannot well account for. If we had more men of ſcience, we ſhould be more aſhamed to ſhew to thoſe of our neighbouring nations the manifeſt igno⯑rance and neglect to be ſeen around our extenſive and important coaſts.

I think I have obſerved, that the kind of knowledge in which the people, and even the gentlemen throughout England, are the moſt deficient, is the mathematical,—ſtill more than in either the natural or moral kinds: many of them ſeem to acquire ſome tolerable notions of agriculture, of law and government, of commerce; but in moſt of the ſubjects where mathematics are concerned; as, canals, roads, rivers, ſea-ports, embankings, piers, harbours, mines, [343] buildings, weights, meaſures, mills, ma⯑chines, manufactories, pneumatics, hydrau⯑lics, in examinations, &c. in theſe you may often ſee country juſtices, and country gentlemen, deceived or led into abſurdities by the moſt illiterate tradeſman, over whom, a ſmall tincture of mathematical knowledge at ſchool or college might have given them a decided ſuperiority, a bene⯑ficial control and direction. If our good fortune ſhould ever bring a man of ſcience to be a miniſter, with ſufficient powers, he will probably ſhew us our ignorance in his improvements; he will find means to oblige various eſtabliſhments and corporate bodies to do their duty at leaſt, and eſta⯑bliſh others if neceſſary; and will make them conſult and employ men of ſcience when obviouſly requiſite: ſuch as your Trinity Houſe,—commiſſioners of ſewers, —thoſe for draining Lincolnſhire,—the corporations of London, and of moſt of the ſea-ports and maritime counties.

In the general ſpirit of improvement, that of education muſt ſurely follow in [344] time. More uſeful knowledge, we may hope, will in future be taught at your uni⯑verſities, as theſe have already begun, and will, in ſome meaſure, be as it were forced to go on, and conform to the advances of the times, and teach what is moſt wanted in ſociety, in ſpite of the fixedneſs, indolence, and monkery of their inſtitution. Since they have condeſcended to ſtudy our laws, may not we hope that a knowledge of commerce and manufactures, of experi⯑mental philoſophy and chemiſtry, may be gradually introduced there? the mathema⯑tical and mechanical ſciences directed to⯑wards practice and utility; together with ſome taſte and practice in the fine arts ^*? [345] And let us hope, that your day ſchools, perhaps the moſt important of all, will be improved and increaſed; and your board⯑ing ſchools diſcouraged and diminiſhed, perhaps by ſome heavy tax, or other means. Thoſe literary and reading ſocieties like⯑wiſe, in your country towns, may inſpire ſome learned ambition, ſome deſire of knowledge, and do much good. Then your women might be of ſignal ſervice in the day ſchools, and in almoſt every branch of early education. Nor can I ſee any ob⯑jection to thoſe females who ſhew ſtrong ſymptoms of genius, and clearneſs of un⯑derſtanding, being permitted to go on in uſeful learning; and ſome of them might, at length, teach the ſciences, give popular lectures, and even fill a profeſſor's chair with as much ſucceſs, grace, and propriety, as any of us, as has been already practiſed in Italy. You would ſoon ſee an increaſ⯑ing demand for female tutors in families, if ſuch could once be found ſufficiently quali⯑fied. Theſe may be conſidered as ſome preliminary reflections, till I can examine farther into the merits of education in this country.

LETTER XIX. Of Language.—Of the French,—its Influ⯑ence.—Of Muſical Language.

I LIKE the idea which you mention, of ſome late writers judging of the civili⯑zation of a people by their language, and from a vocabulary of its terms determining their advances in arts and knowledge. I have thought we could likewiſe judge of their taſte by ſimilar means, and from the choice and compoſition of the ſounds in which they have choſen to expreſs them⯑ſelves, we might gueſs at their talents, and their taſte in general, and more particularly in language, in muſic, and in all the objects of hearing; for theſe are all curiouſly, though often almoſt imperceptibly, linked to each other, and form but one con⯑nected chain of kindred powers and per⯑ceptions.

[347]From this I am inclined to think, that they muſt have had a fine taſte, a juſt ſenſibility, or tatto fino e forte, who framed the Italian language; and thoſe who formed the French, a very bad one—a kind of falſe delicacy which led them to prefer ſuch combinations of ſounds and ar⯑ticulations, as are contrary to the real principles and mechanical means of full and fine expreſſion, and as tend to form ſuch poſitions and habits of the organs as con⯑tract and debilitate them, inſtead of aſſiſt⯑ing and fortifying their exertions. The organs of ſpeaking and of hearing, being connected by nature, are, I think, both ſpoiled by the French language: from this habitual falſe ſtandard proceeds a depraved taſte, which prevents their judging rightly of eloquence, poetry, muſic, and of all thoſe ſpecies of beauties, and in ſhort, of all the objects of theſe two faculties at leaſt: accordingly, I think we actually find that the French people are the moſt deficient of any nation we know, in learning to ſpeak other languages; and we may therefore preſume that they cannot properly judge [348] of their beauties or defects. Thus, in one leading error or defect, we often diſcover the fertile ſource of many more: and, be⯑ſides the natural connection of the powers and objects of taſte, the arts, we know, cannot well advance but a-breaſt, if you will excuſe a military term: ſo that it is difficult to conceive, how thoſe who have gone originally wrong in ſeveral of them, can be great in any: and if we take into the account, a deficiency of perception in ſome of the finer and ſimple beauties of nature, the ſource of all the reſt; and if we thence deduce their paſſion for the artifi⯑cial kinds,—for things where the labour and the artiſt appear,—for glaſs, gilding, glitter, —for violent and ſuperfluous colouring and carving; we muſt allow them merit for not going farther wrong: and we cannot help regretting, that they have ſo much to over⯑come before they can begin to make a right progreſs. We know, however, that ſome of this nation have overcome almoſt all of thoſe difficulties and impediments, which muſt doubtleſs have coſt them great pains, trouble, and travel: I have known ſeveral [349] who have beſtowed great labour on the pronunciation and ſpeaking of other lan⯑guages, and with leſs ſucceſs than you can well imagine.

You will readily conceive, that in ſpeak⯑ing of national character, one means only that which is moſt commonly to be met with in that nation, and which is always ſubject to numerous exceptions. We are, perhaps, too ready to reaſon on general ideas, and lay down principles in almoſt every ſubject, and thence go often wrong by rule. We all know, as you obſerve, that there have been many men and wo⯑men alſo of this country, who have ſhewn the moſt elegant and claſſical taſte in many things, and ſome who have excelled in al⯑moſt all the arts,—if we except thoſe in which, from being inſenſibly incapacitated by their native language, they are infallibly deſtined to labour in vain; and this defici⯑ency reaches farther than you may at firſt conceive;—ſo far as to ſurpriſe you when you come to examine it.

[350]In many ways the French ſhew great vi⯑vacity and quickneſs of parts, and ſome⯑times even ſhining abilities, although their ſtyle of performance in all the arts may be faulty: their amateurs in muſic, for ex⯑ample, are generally greater performers than ours, though their ſtyle and manner of playing is yet more vicious: their vio⯑lent and ſudden jerks and tranſitions,—thoſe extremes of forte and piano which are no longer muſical ſounds, the one being only a whiſper, and the other a noiſe;—their inattention to tone, and hence the general badneſs of their inſtruments, and ſtill more their voices;—their riſing and ſink⯑ing ſo far, and ſo ſuddenly, from all the fury of paſſion to the ſilence of death or ſtupidity: theſe are certainly not within the line of beauty. Our taſte and execution tend towards the other extreme of the tame, heavy, and inſipid. Of the two extremes, I ſhould perhaps prefer their fire and ſpirit, with all its vicious violence, to our ſleepy though ſentimental languor, could they but keep their violence within any bounds: but it ſeems in this caſe, as if it were eaſier for [351] us to add than for them to take away, and better to fall ſhort than overſhoot the mark. By attending more to the Italians, our per⯑formers, though leſs numerous and leſs powerful, certainly do improve in taſte, while they continue in the ſame wild ex⯑treme; and when you are not deficient in ſpirit and expreſſion, you are probably now getting before them in the chief re⯑quiſites of inſtrumental performance, though ſtill inferior in force and execution; nor are you yet ſo far ſuperior to them in ſing⯑ing as you ſeem to fancy; and I think you are not ſufficiently ſenſible of your nume⯑rous vocal deficiencies, nor of many other attendant national vulgariſms; and conſe⯑quently, you are not in the way to get rid of them.

In moſt opinions, except perhaps our own, both the French and we are certainly wretched ſingers, and below criticiſm: let us then attend to the Italians. If we might ven⯑ture to criticiſe their productions, we might obſerve that even they ſometimes go a little aſtray: from a fertile fancy, and love of [353] novelty, amidſt their endeavours to pleaſe all parties and all nations, we may expect to find them, at times, tranſgreſſing their own maxims, and ſacrificing a principle to an acceſſory,—real beauty to trifling orna⯑ment; and in compliance to the times, pre⯑ferring the caprices of execution to the eſ⯑ſentials of expreſſion; running into a ſtyle which a Roman audience will call troppo trito et ornato. And till ſome other Meta⯑ſtaſio appear, their little poetaſters may often be wrong in their muſical language, and may not always diſtinguiſh between what ſhould be ſaid and what ſhould be ſung,—between the words fit for aria, and thoſe for recitativo; though theſe, with their affections of the mind, are as different as ſmoke and flame; and the change from one to the other ſomewhat reſembling that tranſition of nature, as far as ſuch different objects can reſemble. The attempts of the French to run theſe gradually into each other, like ſeveral of their refined ab⯑ſurdities, only ſerves to ſhew their want of muſical feeling and judgment.

[353]Gracing recitative appears abſurd, and yet in the firſt operas, it ſeems, it was ſtill more ornamented, and had frequent formal cloſes: that ſtyle ſeems to be returning. But we may truſt the Italians to their own feelings, which will not probably ſuffer them to wander far, nor long, from truth and nature: and we muſt leave the French to go wrong their own way, which they will moſt likely always do.

This of muſical language is a ſubject that would require ſome farther critical at⯑tention, if that attention could be of any ſervice to it. Since the time of the Greeks, I think it has been attended to only by the Italians, and by them ra⯑ther felt than underſtood; it may ceaſe to be ſo, like many other things, when we come to analyſe it. As the age of ſtrong paſſions and great actions is antecedent to that of reaſon and ſcientific reſearches, the greateſt things are performed before we know well how, or can trace the rules or motives; and when we come to examine too cloſely into the cauſes of our pleaſure, I fear it often vaniſhes in the inveſtigation. [354] Muſic was probably more felt when leſs ſcientific and refined. We have been very long in diſcovering that we have no muſical language except the Italian, and that is only partly muſical: hence the world is not yet cured of the vulgar notion, that any words may be ſung, if they are only made to rhyme: whereas, it is certainly firſt the paſſion or ſentiment expreſſed, and not the rhyme nor cadence, that renders ſerious words fit to be ſung; then the conſtruction and arrangement of the ſounds and articula⯑tions of thoſe words, become next of con⯑ſequence in muſical language. I fear it is hardly poſſible to produce the proper and powerful voice of paſſion or ſentiment upon any of that numerous claſs of Engliſh words ending with a dead dumb conſonant. We could as eaſily run full ſpeed againſt a wall.

It may be chiefly owing to this forma⯑tion of our language, and to the difficulty of producing and exerciſing the voice in ſinging it, that we have had ſo few good voices, ſo little vocal expreſſion, and ſo [355] defective a taſte, or feeling, of muſic in general: and now that we begin to be a little improved by the Italians, our judg⯑ment is ſtill variable and unſure; in de⯑liberating whether we ſhould follow them or not, we are left behind, and often keep admiring as new what is out of date, and far ſurpaſſed in other countries. In like manner, the defects of voice, taſte, and manner, ſo conſpicuous in this nation, might be deduced from their language, though in a different way, as its muſical deficiencies are different. But I wiſh not to tire you with diſquiſitions which, with⯑out ſuch minutiae, you may probably think too long before I have done. For the language and the muſic of this country, you ſee, are leading me into a multitude of general reflections on theſe two ſubjects: from them I ſhall go on to pick out what may appear to me the moſt new and im⯑portant, inſtead of the uſual travelling par⯑ticulars concerning a country already ſo well known.

LETTER XX. Of ſpeaking Languages.—Of Style.

THOUGH ſenſible of the ſingularity of ſome of theſe opinions, on the French, on languages, on muſic, and doubt⯑ful of my own judgment, yet, on the ma⯑tureſt deliberation, I do not find that I can abate much even of the moſt ſingular: we may be too cautious, and thereby deſtroy all energy of thought, and I am perhaps too apt to doubt from anxiety not to miſre⯑preſent; but owing to that very anxiety ſome degree of miſrepreſentation is perhaps unavoidable: from a ſolicitude to give a ſtrik⯑ing likeneſs, we cannot always avoid over⯑charging ſome of the features.

I have here been labouring hard to ſpeak the French comme il faut, afraid that ſome prejudice or diſlike might ariſe in me from a want of ſufficient practice and intercourſe, which I believe may often [357] happen: we find the people of moſt coun⯑tries become more agreeable to us as we grow into their friendſhip and acquaint⯑ance. But I doubt being ever able now to pronounce and ſpeak the French with the current volubility of a native, unleſs it be on ſome choſen and premeditated ſubjects. I have had the ſatisfaction of being taken for an Italian in Italy, and for a Spaniard in Spain (a very rare thing for a ſtranger), but I ſuppoſe I may never be able to paſs here for more than a Swiſs.

The ſpeaking languages well depends not quite ſo much, I think, on a par⯑ticular turn or genius for it, as many ſuppoſe, but more on early pains and habits; and in adults, on additional labour and ſtudy, and on obſerving narrowly, both by the eye and the ear, the motion, man⯑ner, and poſture of the mouths of the na⯑tives: much will likewiſe depend on the nature of our own original language, as before obſerved, on the poſition and ſtrength it may previouſly have given to certain organs: ſo that we find ſome nations learn [358] languages much eaſier than others,—as the Iriſh, Scotch, Moors, &c.—the French and Engliſh the worſt of all. The French are certainly the moſt confined and capricious of us all in their alphabetical habits and ideas, in their notions of orthography, and I believe in every thing where ſounds are concerned: you know, in geography, they have totally ſpoiled the names of places, que no les conociera la madre que les pariò: for theſe and many other reaſons, it is much to be lamented that their language ſhould take the lead in Europe.

I think I can perceive ſome powerful ef⯑fects of language on the phyſiognomy, and can thence trace one of the cauſes of nationality of face: this might be a curious ſpeculation to purſue; but I know not how it could be well expreſſed in writing. You muſt not yet tire of theſe digreſſive and deſultory lectures, which you get ſo often inſtead of travels; I ſhall perhaps return again and again to the ſame ſubjects, as they may, in paſſing through different countries, be forced on the mind: this of [359] language and ſounds ſeems to run into a ſtring of reflections which might be ſtretch⯑ed to any length, eſpecially if we extend it ſo as to take in muſic.

I think I underſtand and like your ob⯑ſervations on Blair and on ſtyle, but I ap⯑prehend that, in communicating our ideas, we ſhall diſcover between us ſome differ⯑ences in taſte, as uſual with thoſe who ven⯑ture to think for themſelves. Accuſtomed to read for information more than for plea⯑ſure, I have attended little to ſtyle or man⯑ner, and have therefore, perhaps, inade⯑quate ideas of its beauties and importance: certainly to handle the tools, and feel the difficulties of an art, muſt enable us to judge better of the merits of the perform⯑ance, provided we are always aware of the error of eſtimating the difficulties of execution too highly; an error to which profeſſors have been ſuppoſed ſometimes ſubject. Some obſervations, however, have occurred to me on attending to yours; you will tell me if you think them juſt: our opinions may be of more ſervice to [360] each other for the very reaſon that they differ.

If we Engliſh ſhould be led into a taſte for too much ornament in writing or ſpeak⯑ing, I think we ſhould have leſs excuſe for ourſelves than ſome other nations. Our plain, rational, and monoſyllabic tongue, ſeems to me, neither made for muſic, nor for thoſe flowery and ſonorous beauties which, in ſome other languages, charm and run away with us by the ear. Our lan⯑guage, clear, diſtinct, and preciſe, ſpeaks only to the underſtanding; it cares not much about the beauties of ſound, nor waits to attend to them. In attempting a lengthened latinity of phraſe, or a conſtant rounding of periods with meaſured ſets of ſonorous terms, in ſoaring to magnificence and amplification, we preſently get into the regions of affectation, where we are quite out of our element, and make a very awk⯑ward figure. In the ſhort nervous ſtyle, where powerful brevity prevails, I con⯑ceive that both the beauties and expreſſion of our language conſiſt: content with the [361] few graces that lie in its way, and not deigning to look aſide for the flowery paths that lead round, by tedious and uncertain ways, to the object already in view, it goes beyond moſt other languages in force and rapidity; reaches its object ſooner, and ſtrikes it more forcibly. If, in aiming at brevity, we ſometimes appear abrupt and obſcure, it is more excuſable than the other extreme of the flowery, declamatory, or diffuſe.

Every language has its particular turn or genius. I know not if any one has re⯑marked theſe, or the following particulars, of ours: in the pronunciation, it ſeems to incline to a certain diſtinct pauſing pre⯑ciſion, by its ſtrong and frequent articula⯑tions, as if attending only to perſpicuity or demonſtration; and without a particular at⯑tention to a choice of words, moſtly of foreign extraction, it does not run current⯑ly, or with facility, through the mouth: but when that attention is diſcovered, it ſtrikes with an idea of affectation, againſt every ſpecies of which I think we have, [362] after a certain degree of cultivation, a na⯑tural diſlike more than any other nation I know. Whereas, in the Spaniſh and Italian languages, the voice dwells with pleaſure on moſt of their ſounds, and the tongue re⯑bounds upon every articulation with a ra⯑pidity and elaſticity which exerciſes and ſtrengthens its powers: but of this, unfor⯑tunately, very few of our Engliſh or French mouths can ever be ſenſible, as both our languages and our organs have been over-refined, contracted, and debilitated,—pro⯑bably from the ſilly affectation of people with bad ears, and falſe taſte, trying to ſpeak pretty. I muſt think that moſt of our flowery writers and ſpeakers will offend the nice and natural ear much more by their affectation, than they can ever pleaſe it by all the beauties they can thus exhibit: while our plain and ſimple brevity, —our wit and humour,—our ſimple and truly ſublime, which riſes by ſtealth into ſentiment independent of the wings of ſound, and where more is meant than meets the ear; theſe will always be juſtly admired: as we riſe into the florid, we [363] ſoon become ridiculous; ſacrificing ſenſe to ſound in a waſte of ineffectual ornaments.

You ought to be the Spartans of Europe, —the patterns of a manly and laconic ſtyle of eloquence; and if you would but tant ſoit peu, ſupport that character, the ſur⯑rounding nations are rather inclined to grant it you: you would then ſtand high and alone; but if you miſtake your object, and take the contrary road, through a flowery verboſity, you will find all the higher places occupied; you will be out-done in thoſe walks by many, who will look down upon you as weak competitors, and laugh at the unnatural efforts of ſuch awkward imitators.

The expreſſion of our language neceſſa⯑rily depends more on emphaſis than on ac⯑cent, of which laſt we have now no rule or idea that can be meaſured or applied, and of which we therefore wiſely make a very moderate and arbitrary uſe; and the em⯑phaſis, when carried to a vulgar extreme, offends the ear, and ſwallows up the [364] unemphatic parts. Much of Garrick's merit as a ſpeaker, conſiſted in properly moderating and concealing it, as the beſt French players do with that barbarous in⯑vention of rhyme; he turned emphaſis into ſound. From this might likewiſe, perhaps, be deduced much of our falſe taſte in ſing⯑ing, and thence generally in muſic; for Engliſh ſinging is as much too emphatic as the ſpeaking. By carrying this violent de⯑gree of emphaſis into ſong, we ſupport the falſe idea, of muſic or ſinging being an ex⯑aggerated kind of ſpeech or poetry; and thoſe emphatic parts of our ſongs, and ſtill more of our boiſterous and bellowing choruſes, often cover and conceal all the reſt, and come to our ears, not in the ſhape of ſounds, but as blows ſufficient to ſplit our heads.

Our pronunciation has been ſo over-re⯑fined by falſe delicacy and affectation, that we have probably now loſt much of the reliſh for that brief and expreſſive energy which is the fort of our language. We have baniſhed the powerful guttural ſounds [365] which, in the Spaniſh, and ſome other lan⯑guages, ſeem to double the force and ex⯑tent of the organs of ſpeech: the nations of moſt taſte and feeling have retained thoſe ſounds; as the Arabians, the Spaniſh, the Scotch, Tuſcans, &c.: a third ſpecies of arti⯑culation, and the moſt expreſſive, is thus added to the other two: thoſe three ſpecies are the labial, the palatal, and the guttural. The r ſeems likewiſe to be in ſome danger of loſing its force and powers in the over⯑refined and minced mode of ſpeaking, of faſhion and affectation.

I am glad to ſee you affect and approve of brevity and ſimplicity; I think them eſſential in your poetry and the true ſublime, and indiſpenſable in our language. Study and acquire a facility of ſtyle and compoſi⯑tion by all means, but not the art of ſpinning out a little matter into a long ſtory, or a great book; that is beneath the dignity of a language whoſe force conſiſts in its good ſenſe and preciſion: your words ſhould be all weight and ſubſtance,—full meaſure preſſed together, and running over, in a redundancy [366] of ſenſe, but not of ſound: examples enough might be found to prove this doc⯑trine. In your favourite Gibbon, I think you will find his beſt phraſes are the brief and laconic,—thoſe that are moſt like Ta⯑citus; but I ſuſpect that the long and la⯑boured periods, of which he is probably the proudeſt, will leaſt ſtand the teſt of time and good taſte. The moſt powerful parts of Lord Chatham's eloquence were thoſe compreſſed into the very eſſence of brevity; when he ſaid, ‘I rejoice that America reſiſts,’ what a previous march and energy of thought was there expreſſed! We can aſtoniſh by the ſhort and forcible ways of hitting our object, but not by over⯑whelming it in a torrent of words, unleſs it be by the ſuddenneſs and velocity, more than by the quantity, of that torrent; but even there, beware of falſe fire and falſe torrents. I know of but few, beſides your Dean Swift, who have had taſte enough to deſpiſe thoſe tinſel beauties of conceit and affectation in our language.

[367]Let us not be led too far out of our way neither by the falſe glare of thoſe fanciful fellows the poets:—but I can excuſe you young men being a little caught, at firſt, by the tinſel of our flouriſhers and verſi⯑fiers; it is a fire that will cool by time and a maturer refinement. I think we have hardly had a poet, ſince Shakeſpear and Milton, of a mind ſufficiently univerſal; nor a ſpeaker of real taſte, except Garrick, to ſhew us how much we ſhould attend to ſenſe, and how much to ſound: I believe, we ſhall ſeldom find any of thoſe three ſa⯑crificing the former to the latter. We muſt not look for the force nor for the few beau⯑ties of our language, in the ſickly fancy of modern refinement, that culls the few ſoft and affected phraſes, and ſhrinks from the old, rough, manly, and moſt powerful terms,—nor in the faſhionable converſation, or mincing jargon of the day, among the people who are reputed genteel. I think I have known ſome country, or paſtoral, people, who have a better taſte in poetry, muſic, and ſong, than thoſe of great towns; there, I think the vulgarities are inſupport⯑able; [368] whereas thoſe of the country have often ſomething of the rural or antiquated, that renders the moſt ignorant agreeable. In great towns, the lower claſſes have either no taſte, or worſe than none; and the higher refine without feeling. Your cockneys, I believe, contribute largely towards ſpoiling both your language and your taſte.

LETTER XXI. On Muſic.

I AM now going to take your advice, and try to recollect ſuch of my obſerva⯑tions on muſic as may have a chance of being new or ſingular, and in the order they may occur to a memory which you know to be none of the beſt. The vaſt variety of ſounds, their formation, quali⯑ties, and effects, ſeem not to have been yet ſufficiently attended to, perhaps be⯑cauſe not of ſufficient importance. But you ſee I know not well how, or where, to begin, without appearing too general and ſyſtematic; and I do not mean to write a formal treatiſe: we men are ever attempt⯑ing to generalize ideas too much, and em⯑broiling with ſcientific ratiocination the ſimpleſt things. Some Frenchman ob⯑ſerves, "que trop de raiſonnement étouffe le ſentiment; il faudroit le laiſſer a ceux qui ne [370] ſont des hommes que par la téte." You ladies could give us very good leſſons in theſe matters; with a little more education, many of you would render learning more agreeable and leſs pedantic, and would be ſufficiently compreſſed and laconic in your reaſoning, with all the advantages of a finer taſte and a truer ſenſibility, a juſter ſenſe of ſimplicity, affectation, and of all the human qualities, you might be ſtill of more ſervice to us.

But I meant to ſay ſomething more of the ſounds, or component parts of lan⯑guage: I think they have not yet been well arranged, nor underſtood; I doubt that which was underſtood by the Greeks is now moſtly loſt to us. Some of the Italian grammarians and muſicians, as a Buomat⯑tei, Martini, Tartini, &c. have made another beginning on theſe ſubjects of ſounds, language, muſic; and the Italians are moſt likely to ſucceed in purſuing them.

[371]Alphabetical writing was doubtleſs a wonderful and important diſcovery. Its greateſt merit, I think, was that of diſ⯑tinguiſhing ſounds from articulations, a degree of perfection to which the eaſtern languages have not yet arrived; and that defect may be, with thoſe nations, one of the chief cauſes of their limited progreſs in many other things. You know they have no vowels, except ſome that have the a, but always joined to ſome articulation: their attempts to ſupply that defect by points, give them but very imperfect and indiſtinct ideas of vocal and articulate ſounds, and of their important diſtinction. But even languages the moſt alphabetical, if the ex⯑preſſion may be allowed, could not pro⯑bably tranſmit, by writing, a complete idea of their own ſounds and pronunciation from any one age or people to another. Sounds are to us infinite and variable, and we cannot tranſmit by one ſenſe the ideas and objects of another. We ſhall be convinced of this, when we recollect the innumerable qualities of tone in human voices, ſo as to enable us to diſtinguiſh all [372] our acquaintances, though the number ſhould amount to many hundreds, or per⯑haps thouſands. With attention, we might diſcover a different quality of tone in every inſtrument; for all theſe there never can be a ſufficient number of adequate terms in in any written language: and when that variety comes to be compounded with a like variety of articulation, it becomes in⯑finite to us. The varieties only upon the ſeven notes in muſic, varied only as to pitch and modulation throughout the audible ſcale, combined with thoſe of time, are not yet probably half exhauſted by the conſtant labour of ſo many ages. So that the idea of Mr. Steel, and others, of repreſenting to the eye the tune and time only of the ſounds in any language, will probably ever prove inadequate to the end propoſed, even without attempting the kinds and qualities of tones and articulations, which would render it infinite and quite impoſſible.

The diviſion of the ſounds of language into accent, quantity, emphaſis, has plainly proved inſufficient to mark or meaſure [373] thoſe ideas intelligibly. Some mode of dividing all ſounds, comprehending thoſe of language, into tune, time, tone, and ar⯑ticulation, ſeems poſſible: and ſome of them might be expreſſed on an inſtrument, but not the whole. Emphaſis ſeems in⯑capable of being meaſured or tranſmitted. Noiſe and ſound ſeem to belong to different genera. So that there appears to be a real diſtinction between noiſe, ſound, and muſic; and though theſe three diſtinct genera decline, or ſhade off into each other, yet they cannot well be confounded by a juſt or muſical ear; but it ſeems to me, that in France and England they often con⯑found them all.

The complete generic difference between ſome ſounds and muſic, as between ſinging and ſpeaking, has certainly been overlook⯑ed: theſe two ſpecies of voci ſhould be expreſſed by different terms: words, when ſung, ſhould be called by ſome other name. It ſeems doubtful if ſpeaking in the modern languages can belong even to the claſs of ſounds, much leſs to that of muſic. The idea and expreſſion of muſical beauties [374] in language, is now merely figurative: we might almoſt as properly call them white or black, as muſical. The moment any noiſe becomes a ſound, or a ſound becomes muſical, it is transformed in its nature, and into a different claſs, and ſhould no longer retain the ſame name: and if we had terms enough, none of thoſe techni⯑cally uſed for one claſs would apply to another. Nothing ſhews more clearly the inſufficiency of language, than different ſubjects borrowing ſo many terms from each other: it may be the ſource of ſome figures and beauties of ſpeech, but not of preciſion or of ſcientific improvement. I only pretend to give hints: terms and ar⯑rangements ſeem yet wanting in theſe ſub⯑jects. The Italians ſhould here inveſtigate, and we ſhould follow them.

In order to underſtand this generic differ⯑ence between muſical ſounds and all others, we muſt attend to the mind, when muſically employed or diſpoſed by muſic itſelf: in that diſpoſition or affection, the chief circum⯑ſtance to be noticed ſeems to be the power [375] given to the mind, by means of muſic, at once to dwell on the object of its paſſion, and to expreſs that paſſion with eaſe and plea⯑ſure by means of this new medium: where⯑as, by words, or common language, the mind ſeems diſpoſed to vent or get rid of its feelings; or the rapid ſucceſſion of ideas leaves not time for the deep impreſſion of any one in particular; hence the great paſſions feel a kind of contempt for mere words, and often prefer ſilence or action; the mind prefers muſic (if the paſſion is not too outrageous), in order to indulge in expreſſions at once ſufficiently pleaſant and durable. Words, producing their ef⯑fects by ſucceſſive and reiterated impreſ⯑ſions, but which are only tranſient, and, as it were, remove each other, the reſult can⯑not be ſo much an accumulation of the whole, as when muſic is employed to bind all thoſe inſtants together, and, by form⯑ing them all into one continued whole, produce effects proportioned to the pro⯑longed duration of the favourite ſenti⯑ment.

[376]Between the leaſt and greateſt expreſſion in muſic,—between ſimple recitation and the beſt expreſſions of extreme diſtreſs, of ſorrow, rage, or deſpair,—the degrees are numerous, and ſeem to me far greater than between any one kind of language and another: yet this muſical affection ſeems likewiſe diſpoſed to ſmooth and equalize, as well as to continue the different ſenti⯑ments expreſſed, and to bring the moſt violent paſſion down to a tone or tempera⯑ment more pleaſant and ſupportable; and ſeems, at the ſame time, to dignify or ele⯑vate leſſer objects and ſentiments up to⯑wards the ſame tone, ſo as to aſſimilate the whole of the ſentiments and expreſſion, and render them more temperate and ele⯑gant, though not leſs powerful: hence muſic has always been conſidered as proper to ſoften or tame the rugged and hurtful paſſions,—to temper and civilize the mind; and hence it cannot probably admit of the violent oratorial or theatrical modes of action and expreſſion: ſobbing, and tears, may perhaps be admiſſible in ſome kinds of declamation, but not in ſerious ſinging; [377] and the abſurdity of the French in attempt⯑ing it, is very obvious to every body but themſelves.

The meaning and limits of muſical ex⯑preſſions not being very clear, diſtinct, or well defined, but ſhaded off, and running, as it were, out of ſight, leave the fancy juſt what it wiſhes, the power of ſhaping them to its own affections; ſo that the muſic and the imagination go on, mutually aſſiſting each other wonderouſly well, till loſt in the clouds of ſublimity of their own creating. From theſe premiſes follow ſeveral conſequences, more than I ſhall trouble you with.

From this equanimity and deſire of con⯑tinuance in the muſical affection, we may deduce the diſlike of violent change in the melody or modulation, in the time or movement, beyond a certain degree; theſe muſt correſpond to the new equanimity of the paſſions, and now ſlower tranſitions of the mind. This is ſeldom ſufficiently ob⯑ſerved even by maſters of great name; I [378] think they are often either under or over the limits in modulation—length, variety, change; and they thus too plainly diſcover that they do not always themſelves feel what they ſeem to expreſs.

From hence, and from what follows, may be deduced the reaſons of our language being unfit for muſic, and of its injuring our muſical abilities, and impeding the pro⯑greſs of the art. The number of ideas, and accuracy of the meaning, the wit, and habi⯑tual good ſenſe, of the Engliſh language, are all unfit to be ſung, eſpecially when compreſſed into few words; ſo that your beſt poetry is the leaſt ſingable; and there is no ſetting two of your excellent verſes to muſic, without tranſgreſſing ſome of the above rules of nature: likewiſe, its ſounds and articulations not being arranged for ſinging, the expreſſion conſiſting moſtly in the force of ſhortneſs, more like the ſtrength of a blow than the power of ſound, your poetry muſt be ſpoiled by being ſung, and your forcible emphaſis muſt loſe its powers, when turned into lengthened and enfeebled [379] ſound, with the powers of which you are not ſufficiently acquainted nor exerciſed, nor probably ever can be, while impeded by an antimuſical language, that cannot with propriety be ſung. That angular kind of ſtiffneſs in French and Engliſh ſong, of which almoſt all their compoſitions partake, is thus probably owing to the languages.

The qualities of tone, which ſeem in⯑finite, have great power in carrying various affections directly to the heart: indeed, the quality of tone ſeems to be the moſt eſſential part of the whole muſical ma⯑chinery that affects us, and yet it ſeems the leaſt attended to by the French and Engliſh. Certain tones, and muſical ſen⯑tences, ſeem to be the original expreſſions of nature, and cannot be analyſed or ex⯑plained; and they might, perhaps, be made to ſupply ſtill better the defects in the lan⯑guages of convention.

Hence alſo, one air or piece ſhould never be made to expreſs more than one ſenti⯑ment: there is a neceſſary unity of idea [380] throughout the ſame movement, and to break it is as great an offence againſt the taſte or af⯑fection on the one hand, as the want of ge⯑nius ſufficient to fill up the limits of variety, which the mind in that ſtate allows, is on the other. The favourite object or ſenti⯑ment of a paſſion is of ſuch importance in the muſical piece, that different movements may be applied to expreſs it, or dwell on it: but different ſentiments being ſung to the ſame muſic is generally abſurd and in⯑congruous. The old mode of ballads, or poems, where the words are the main ob⯑ject, and every verſe is ſung to the ſame tune, is poetry and not muſic; quite an⯑other ſpecies, as well as that of recitative, and of many comic expreſſions which depend on the jingle or rythmical motion of the time.

Some of the ballad kind of muſic, I can conceive, might, even in modern language, be ſucceſsfully applied to greater poetic works, which, accompanied by a large harp or lute, might be ſung or recited in ſome kind of half-meaſured heroic air, or recita⯑tive, as was probably done by the ancients, [381] and attempted by ſome modern harpers or minſtrels in various countries; and of which the preſent old Spaniſh romance may be ſome remains or imitation. A great maſter of his inſtrument, and of his ſub⯑ject, I can likewiſe conceive, might even make words and muſic both extemporary, and produce powerful effects from the warmth and greatneſs of his feelings, as we have ſeen ſucceſsfully attempted in Spain and Italy. The modern ſerious Italian is a ſpecies differing from all theſe, and not at all connected with the words, with the rhyme, or the cadence of poetry: it is not the words, but the paſſion, which is here ſet to muſic. The relationſhip be⯑tween muſic and verſe, which we are ſtill fooliſhly inſiſting on being ſiſter arts, is here quite worn out: our muſic is now in⯑ſulated and governed by laws of her own, and no longer grows out of our language. In the comic or lively, the muſic may ex⯑preſs the meaſure or jingle of the verſe, though not very cloſely, and ſhe ought even there to take liberties of her own: but in the ſerious ſhe moves with too much paſſion and dignity to follow the meaſure [382] of verſe, or any meaſures but her own; and the words or voci are obviouſly ſecond⯑ary. So that there ſeems to be growing up a ſpecific difference between ſong and aria; in the firſt, the words being the main object, and the tune or muſic ſecondary; and in the aria, the contrary.

Words, when ſung, as already obſerved, ſhould be called by ſome other name (as voci muſicale or cantabile), as they are then transformed into another claſs, with qualities entirely different, though not eaſy to define: they are converted from con⯑ventional ſigns of ideas, to be a part of the moſt original expreſſions of nature and of paſſion, and affect us no longer as words, but as part of the muſic,—a part that helps to direct the mind towards the object or meaning of the melody, but not too direct and preciſely; they may help to give vent to the paſſion, but not to explain or define it; that, when neceſſary, is the office of recitative, as well as that of carrying on the action or ſtory. We ſhall very ſeldom find Metaſtaſio guilty of the abſurdity of ſinging events, or a ſtory, in the laboured melody [383] of aria, which muſt be reſerved for the language of paſſion or ſentiment.

The muſical philoſopher would ſoon perceive the neceſſity of ſome muſical lan⯑guage being conſtructed on purpoſe, if the Italian were not already made to his hand; its voci are tolerably conſtructed both as to force and beauty—the ſounds and articula⯑tions of the right kind, and ſo combinable as to favour both the forcible and the beau⯑tiful modes of muſical expreſſion, and to maintain that continued and flowing deſire which keeps moving unbroken within cer⯑tain limits or lines of beauty; not in ſharp angles, or cut into pieces, like the muſic of moſt other nations. Their words, or voci, do not, like ours, ſtop the muſical voice, but help to bring it forth, and produce that fulneſs and length of ſound, ſupported on ſtrong and well placed articulations, which, like ſteps, bear up, and carry on the voice, make it rebound, and keep the mind, as it were, ſuſpended or floating in that kind of pleaſure which forms the chief part of what I call the muſical affection. But I believe it is impoſſible to explain theſe things in words, and I do not expect to be well un⯑derſtood, [384] nor is it perhaps very neceſſary that I ſhould attempt it; our friend Dr. Burney will make theſe things plainer to you, and I flatter myſelf he will generally be found of my opinion; my not being of his would make me doubt or retract.

In muſic there are probably ſome certain principles of beauty in which almoſt all nations would agree, if we could, in ſo⯑ciety, preſerve our native feelings to judge of them: but thoſe feelings, altered and weakned by civilization, are perhaps no longer equal to the taſk; our feelings ſub⯑ſide even while we write about them, and as we attempt to define, they evaporate. We know they are ſubject to the powers of habit, or ſecond nature, for we ſee dif⯑ferent nations love very different ſorts of muſic, and I have ſeen ſome who love none. We may now be ſo far beneath the feelings and enthuſiaſm of former times, as to have hardly enough remaining to judge of theirs, or to form theories and ſpecula⯑tions on theſe ſubjects: and in theſe writ⯑ing and civilized ages, theory ſeems to be our fort, and our greateſt pleaſure, and if [385] we miſs that, we ſhall have little elſe re⯑maining. Such appears to be the progreſs of ſociety: in ſome of its earlier ſtages, with higher ſentiments and powers of exertion, men do great things for their more enlightened poſterity to write and talk about; and theſe two different employ⯑ments ſuit the two different periods and characters: the pleaſure of the one con⯑ſiſting in action, and of the other in know⯑ledge. By the time we have ſettled a good theory of muſic, and of muſical ſentiment (if ever we do), perhaps the muſical age will be over, if it is not over already. The critics came after Homer, who made poetry and rules all at once. Genius and judgment, when joined, ſeem but one ſen⯑timent; and the firſt feeling or judgment of real genius is perhaps more infallible than that of the moſt laborious reaſon⯑ing.

The heroic, poetic, and muſical ages, probably come together, or in ſucceſſion, producing each other, and before that of [386] higher civilization, which diſpels the others. The people of Paris and of London have, I think, the worſt taſte in muſic of any people in Europe.

We have learned from our maſters the Italians, that the firſt merit of any muſic conſiſts much in its near reſemblance to that of the human voice: but hardly any of us, beſides the Italians, have any voices worth imitating, except the little we ſome⯑times learn from them: they are readily admitted not only to the ſecond, but to the firſt place, by all thoſe nations who have ſhewn the beſt taſte, and have pro⯑duced the beſt muſic: it was reſerved for the French, and ſome of the Engliſh (nei⯑ther of whom have ſhewn much good taſte, nor good muſic), to diſpute the ſuperiority with the Italians: but it is the aſs in the lion's ſkin; they ſtand alone, and only themſelves could ever think of comparing their heavy and vulgar compoſitions with the elegant and powerful productions of that refined people. Who ever heard of a grand [387] French opera out of France, or a Handel's oratorio out of England ^*?

After the Italians, the Spaniards, per⯑haps the next in muſic, have kept up the beſt national taſte for ſome time; and are likewiſe next to them in ſinging, which they do naturally and delicately, and which is perhaps chiefly owing likewiſe to their language: but they too, admirers of the Italian ſtyle, will probably adopt it ſo heartily as to loſe their own, which is per⯑haps the national muſic moſt to be re⯑gretted in the general loſs. All who are acquainted with the ſeguidilla and zarzue⯑la, would gladly hope, that their ſingular, ingenious, and expreſſive delicacy might preſerve them from the general ruin which, from Italy, now threatens the muſic of all other nations.

Inſtrumental muſic advances, I think, apace, while that of ſong, the ſource of all, [388] ſtands ſtill, or, what is worſe, runs wild. Though the beſt parts of inſtrumental muſic may be thoſe that are ſaid to ſing, and their firſt and moſt indiſpenſable merit is their near imitation of the human voice, yet each inſtrument has a peculiar ſtyle of execution, and kind of muſic of its own; and the performers in thoſe paths produce many beauties foreign to ſong, though neceſſa⯑rily mixed with it: beſides, a natural deſire for variety and novelty, a neceſſary relief for ſong itſelf, all require that inſtrumental muſic muſt not always be ſinging; as it cannot raiſe the muſical affection in the mind ſo eaſily, nor to ſo high a pitch, as ſong, it muſt have recourſe to the variety of execution, of movement, modulation, melody, in order to command and ſurpriſe the attention. But let us pray that this kind of muſic may paſs only for what it is worth: voices imitating inſtruments is cer⯑tainly a falſe taſte, and let us hope that the world en reviendra.

I confeſs I love to ſee genius take liber⯑ties within certain wide bounds, and tranſ⯑greſs [389] now and then ſome eſtabliſhed rules; ſeveral of which become ſo tireſome in the dull routine of conſtant uſe, eſpecially in the hands of the French and Engliſh, where there is ſo little real muſical genius and variety. Muſic has, at times, been ſhackled with various pedantic rules, which have been afterwards broken and removed by ſome of thoſe original and friendly ge⯑niuſes that now and then ariſe to ſet us free again: theſe Frenchmen want to ſhackle it ſtill more, and inſiſt on the compoſer and ſinger attending to the accent and quantity of their proſaic and antimuſical language. The French had their preſent ſtyle of muſic from Italy by means of Lully and Rameau, and the Engliſh by Handel; but they both now abſurdly attempt to refuſe following their maſters the Italians, when they deſerve it more; and they are left behind, to ſtand alone, and render their defects in muſical taſte the more conſpicuous. There can be no one excluſive ſtyle of beauty in muſic; variety becomes neceſſary to thoſe who can reliſh all its beauties: each kind has [390] its degree of merit; ignorance and bad taſte diſcover themſelves by miſplacing thoſe degrees, and by preferring medio⯑crity to excellence, or the worſt to the beſt.

But, in ſhort, muſic is an affair of ſenti⯑ment, and the only queſtion is, Do you like it? Still more of the rules and habits of modern compoſition will probably be con⯑ſidered, one day, as pedantic nonſenſe. And let us hope the times may return, when great maſters, with warm and cultivated minds, will compoſe, from their own feelings, more than by any of the mechanical rules of their art. A Sacchini, Boccherini, Haydn, and ſome others, have ſhewn them the way nor have they gone ſo far as to give cauſe to deſpair going beyond them, as has been ſuppoſed of Newton or Raphael: the be [...] muſic furniſhes the moſt hints for imita⯑tion, and the moſt original ideas, in others if thoſe great geniuſes cannot be ſurpaſſe [...] in their own walks, new paths may b [...] diſcovered by that very enthuſiaſm wit [...] [391] which they inſpire us: ſo that the moſt muſical nations and ages muſt be the leaſt ſtationary, the moſt prolific and change⯑able in their taſte and productions: it is only the common people who for ever can reliſh only the ſame tunes and ſongs; and nothing ſhews more ſtrongly, in a nation, the want of muſical progreſs, or of the true feel⯑ings and knowledge in the art, than the vulgarity of annually repeating, and dwell⯑ing eternally on, the ſame pieces of muſic, and more eſpecially if thoſe pieces are ſuch as no nation can like but them⯑ſelves.

We have had a Purcel, and the Scotch have ſhewn ſome muſical ſentiment by their ſongs, or national melodies: but then ſome think it was more generally taught at our common ſchools, and country choirs were well filled, and vied with each other in taſte and performance. A continuance of theſe excellent cuſtoms might have pro⯑duced a ſucceſſion of Purcels, which, in⯑deed, is abſolutely neceſſary to the pro⯑greſs [392] of the art: ſuch a progreſſion might, by this time, have worn away many dif⯑ficulties and impediments: but our lan⯑guage, and our voices, though both might be improved, will long, I fear, keep our national taſte below mediocrity, and doom⯑ed to follow the Italians at a great diſtance. However, by liberally encouraging them as they deſerve, the art may flouriſh with you, even more than in any other capi⯑tal in Europe: but where it has ceaſed being taught at common ſchools, where that muſe is not born and bred, and does not proceed ſpontaneouſly from the genius and manners of the people, nor grow out of their language, ſhe may be invited over and nurſed up as the ſlave of luxury, and may adminiſter ſome feeble pleaſures to the exhauſted feelings of the great; but her native vigour and abilities will not appear in ſuch countries, nor can much of the na⯑tural influence of her art be thus forced downwards, beginning, as it were, at the wrong end.

[393]Hence the muſical judgment, or ſenſibi⯑lity of your audience, will probably be always ſomewhat low and defective, and the encoring of Roaſt Beef, or of ſome little popular rondo, or vulgar ballad, will long continue to ſhew the extent of their taſte and knowledge: they ſeem to judge of ſong and melody by ſome ſtandard of the loweſt vulgarity, taken from the alehouſe or Vauxhall, or at beſt from ſome old-faſhioned inſtrumental execution, or ſome⯑times from their heavy drawling church ſtyle. And even among your moſt im⯑proved and cultivated ears, how few are yet found capable of feeling the merits of the true Italian ſong, tone, and melody? And of your fingers, ſtill fewer I fear will ever be able to expreſs thoſe, or deliver the voci of that elegant language in ſong, or any thing like the nature and character of its cantabile expreſſions.

In their mode of ſinging and expreſſing the Italian, it is preſently perceptible that they are at beſt only mimicking, like par⯑rots, the expreſſions of another, and that [394] they are neither thinking, nor feeling, in that language, nor know any thing of the paſſion they are ſinging about, and are only trying to recollect the leſſons of the maſter. And even the talent of mimicking, inſtead of feeling thoſe expreſſions, cannot, I be⯑lieve, be well acquired without going to Italy while young.

A very different taſte and degree of ſkill and judgment are obſervable in the people or audience at Rome, and even a little difference and improvement already at Edinburgh.

As to your Engliſh and French operas, or your comedies haſhed up with ſongs, I have gradually brought myſelf to feel them almoſt all inſupportable, and to think them incompatible with the principles and effects of modern muſic. Both languages are totally unfit for recitative, and thereby ex⯑clude all ſucceſsful attempts at ſerious opera: the other, or comic kind, is not often much better: the tranſition from ſpeech to ſong, and ſtill more from ſong to [395] ſpeech, is too violent even in joke or fun, and is not long to be borne by any but French or Engliſh ears. If the author were a good muſician, he might contrive, with cautious art, like Shakeſpear, to intro⯑duce, without offence, ſome ſinging; but then it ſhould always terminate the ſcene, and with an exit.

All muſic might be divided into popular and learned, though they are generally mixed, and neither ſpecies is found pure, or by itſelf: the taſte, even of the loweſt people, by ſlow degrees, may be perceived to advance a little into the learned. It might be curious to trace the gradual pro⯑greſs of our taſte, or deſire for variety and new ideas, by long practice, from the moſt ſimple to the moſt varied melody, up through all the varieties of diſcord, complication, contrivance. This progreſs is abſolutely ne⯑ceſſary and natural in muſic, whatever it may be in the other arts: though it may require to be confined in its progreſs with⯑in certain wide rules or limits; yet there is [396] in muſic no ſtationary point of perfection where it ought to ſtop, as in the other arts. I believe it may be becauſe muſic is more natural to us, and through habit, ſoon be⯑comes a kind of extemporary expreſſion, or pleaſurable effuſion of the mind, which is not ſubject to, nor worth the labour of being tied up by, many rules and regula⯑tions, nor of being ſtopped at any ſuppoſed point of excellence.

Thoſe vulgar, ſocial, or ſentimental ſongs, and the manner of ſinging them, in France and England, without any accom⯑paniment of other voice or inſtrument, may be conſidered as the loweſt ſpecies of muſic,—if in that defective ſhape they can at all be claſſed as muſic. Since the diſ⯑covery and uſe of harmony, theſe muſt ap⯑pear to muſicians as very defective, and all of them to require ſome accompaniment. We might as well inſiſt upon going into company barefooted ſo long after ſhoes and ſtockings have been invented, as attempt to ſupport that kind of ſinging, as muſic, ſo long after the ſyſtem of harmony has been [397] eſtabliſhed^*: but all the other higher claſſes of harmonic compoſition are made for the ſcientific and ſkilful in the art, and are certainly beyond the taſte and comprehen⯑ſion of thoſe who are not muſicians: ſo that we cannot eaſily conceive how thoſe two ſets of people, the learned and un⯑learned in harmony, can now poſſibly aſ⯑ſociate muſically; or why ſo many of the latter, of the uninitiated, come to diſturb certain ſelect muſical parties with their company, to hear what they cannot underſtand, nor half reliſh, and where they can neither ſpeak nor move without being wrong, and bringing ſecret diſtreſs on the muſical members, and ſome degree of con⯑tempt upon themſelves. Muſic is unlike the other arts in this, that there is no learn⯑ing to judge without learning to perform; though the art ſeems natural and eaſy to every one who has an ear, yet the judg⯑ment [398] of the unlearned is ſeldom, if ever, worth attending to. They ought at leaſt to be ſilent, and never ſpeak on the ſubject.

To have a good muſical audience they muſt all be muſicians; but this cannot yet be expected, till the ſol fa, as we hope, be again commonly learned at ſchool, and the guitara, or lute, as generally underſtood and uſed in company as a pack of cards; the former talent being much eaſier ac⯑quired, will certainly afford more plea⯑ſure than the latter. This degree of muſical taſte and talents might have been, and may yet be expected to ariſe among us, as a natural conſequence of the modern im⯑provements, and facility in harmony and methods of teaching, with the increaſing abundance of fine muſic. Such is already pretty nearly the ſtate of muſic in ſome parts of Spain and Portugal: moſt of the people there ſing, play, and underſtand muſic, and with very little more teaching than ſuch as is uſed in learning to walk, ſpeak, or read. It is to be hoped, in the next generation, there will be more muſi⯑cians, and that they will do ſomething to⯑wards [399] bringing the art into more general uſe.

I think thoſe ſingle naked table ſongs are very properly wearing out of faſhion, and will, I hope, remain ſo, till people learn to accompany themſelves; ſo that little or no muſic will then remain for the unlearned, and people will be forced to become really muſical, by learning the art, for all the reaſons of ſelf-defence and ſocial plea⯑ſure.

I fear that native defects in ſome of the northern characters and languages, muſt have retarded the natural progreſs of muſic among them: nothing but ſome ſuch cir⯑cumſtance, together with the great num⯑ber of the ignorant keeping one another in countenance, could produce, or excuſe the negligence, we might almoſt ſay, the ſtupidity of ſo many remaining unac⯑quainted with ſo ſimple a thing as our ſol, fa, or ſyſtem of muſic, the ſource of ſo much pleaſure. We are told, that in Ruſſia muſic [400] has long begun to make ſome of its natural progreſs among the people: and if their muſicians can travel to Italy, and the Italian maſters reſort to them, another muſical nation may, in time, be added to the preſent few.

I can never allow any merit to loudneſs, except in military muſic, but hardly any, except the Turks, have underſtood this rightly: there is a certain limit to the dif⯑ference or proportion between the piano and forte, which only the Italians under⯑ſtand, and which the French perpetually trangreſs.

I doubt our national taſte does not of late improve, even with all the pains and expences of our rich and great: with the muſic of all the world before us, I think we often chuſe the worſt: between the French and the antiquated ideas, I fear our ears are ſpoiled, and that we are even in danger of going back inſtead of forward, and of being left behind other nations, [401] at the diſtance of perhaps a century, in the natural progreſſion of muſical taſte. You will readily perceive the muſical de⯑fects of our nation, and by too many ſymp⯑toms: without the true muſical ſoul, we refine without feeling. I think this is perceptible, even in our firſt-rate muſical parties,—in our having ſo often only pro⯑feſſors to perform: by bringing a public concert into a private room, where the profeſſed muſicians direct, and the ama⯑teurs take no part, proceeding from the indolence and pride of luxury, and over⯑rating the merits of execution from a want of feeling for the expreſſive; the party, and the muſic, become thereby much leſs in⯑tereſting, and accordingly it will, in time, be heard with a cold and faſhionable indif⯑ference, even though the merits of the per⯑formance ſhould increaſe. Beſides, profeſ⯑ſors ſeldom make the beſt choice: to ſhine in execution is too often their object; they have not always the taſte, nor the liberty, to prefer fine muſic to fine playing, and will not, in that way, contribute to improve the general taſte, while there are ſo few of thoſe feeling philoſophic amateurs to [402] direct, and who take a part. I fear we ſhall, in time, have almoſt nothing but that un⯑feeling kind of inſtrumental difficult muſic, ſolos and ſolo concertos, which, though ſometimes meritorious in its way, in the hands of a Giardini or a Fiſcher, will yet re⯑tard inſtead of promoting the ſtudy and im⯑provement of various angelic kinds which, I fancy, may yet be produced,—kinds wherein the ſpeaking melodies, the heaven⯑ly harmony, and heart-felt tones, prevail with accumulating effects, in the form of quartettos, quintettos, or concertantes. Since Giardini is leaving us, I think we are already loſing that little taſte for tone which we had acquired from him; and I fear the taſte for inſtrumental difficulties will likewiſe infect that of ſinging, and take place of the truly vocal and divine, before it is brought near to perfection.

There is yet much to be done in muſic beyond, or as it were out of, human na⯑ture, and many things to be expreſſed be⯑ſides the human feelings and paſſions. In attending to ſome of the firſt-rate Italian ſingers, who have judgment to ſupport a [403] certain ſimple dignity, I think we have directly ſome idea or inclination to place the character out of human nature, above its ordinary weakneſſes and defects, and not ſubject to any unmanly, querulous, or violent expreſſion; and the ſingers who give into thoſe expreſſions, or imitate too far the inſtrumental tricks of execution, become vulgar or ridiculous like the French, or deſcend into the character of mere in⯑ſtrumental performers. There is an elegant ſublime ſimplicity of idea attainable in all the fine arts, which can only be explained and underſtood in the compoſitions and performance of great maſters. The idea of a divinity, for inſtance, formed and executed by a Praxiteles, a M. Angelo, or a Raphael, will ſhew us, at once, what it ſhould be, much better than can be done by words; and it will be found very dif⯑ferent from that of a modern French or Dutch artiſt, though the latter might be much higher finiſhed. May not we hope that this great and good taſte in muſic, at leaſt, will continue ſo far to prevail in Italy as to keep itſelf alive, and form now and then a Seneſino, or a Manzoli, to pre⯑ſerve [404] in the world a ſenſe of the true ſub⯑lime and ſimple ſtyle of ſinging?

As to compoſers, though, from a ſcarci⯑ty, even in Italy, of firſt-rate maſters, the fiddlers may ſeem ſometimes to ſtep into their place, yet we may hope that now and then a Sacchini, and even a ſucceſſion of ſuch men, will probably be produced there, to poliſh and continue the chain of muſical progreſſion. Is it not to Germany we owe this ſcrambling fiddling taſte for execution, which threatens to infect all our muſic? I only wiſh to moderate, not to baniſh it. If thoſe ingenious German compoſers were to ſtudy ſimplicity a little more, and make muſic within the powers of the amateurs to perform, would it not promote and extend the art much more than by producing ſo much that can only be executed by profeſ⯑ſors? The Italians are often aſtoniſhed to hear them, the French, and us, play ſo well, and yet ſing ſo ill, and to ſee us always ſoliciting every body to ſing where there is nobody that can ſing fit to be heard. I think all the voices to the north of the Alps and the [405] Pyrennees are diſtinguiſhable, and moſt of them defective, except ſome baſs voices.

The ingenious modern way of writing or noting of muſic, which has contributed ſo much to its progreſs and complication, has perhaps likewiſe deſtroyed much of its fire and effects: ſuch is the fate of every thing human; there is no good without its at⯑tendant evil. When we come to be ſo ſcientific and artificial as to write and ſtudy muſic upon paper, the noble enthuſiaſm of ſimple heroic tunes is probably gone: we calmly calculate and compare the beauties and contrivances of harmony, without much feeling, or dwelling on the melody or ſong on the ſentiments, the great paſſions, or events it expreſſes, or was wont to expreſs: ſo that our pleaſure does not keep pace with the merits, or at leaſt ingenuity, of the com⯑poſitions produced, but ſeems to go in a contrary direction; and our paſſion or love of muſic, the moſt eſſential, ſeems to cool and diminiſh as the variety and quantity of muſical productions increaſe.

[406]In the progreſs of refinement, we gra⯑dually forget that muſic was probably in⯑tended as an extemporary effuſion of the mind, as well as a ſource of ſtudious and refined pleaſure; but the latter, you ſee, gra⯑dually ſwallows up the former. There are certain occaſions when the muſic or the ſong ſhould, at leaſt, appear to be the immediate effuſion of the fancy or paſſion, and the production of the moment. In China, it is always ſuppoſed that a muſician ſings and plays ſpontaneouſly, and it is a diſgrace to want a book. Even now, in our moſt laboured compoſitions for the theatre, the actor or ſinger would produce much leſs effect if that ſmall degree of deception were dropped and he were to read his part, inſtead of getting it by heart. Hence greater and more various effects might probably be produced, by aſſiſting the deception, and ſometimes placing the whole apparatus of the orcheſtra out of ſight, and moving them to different diſtances, as we have ſeen partially at⯑tempted, and generally with conſiderable ſucceſs.

[407]We tramontani are certainly too ſtation⯑ary in our taſte and invention, and forget that muſic is a progreſſive art, naturally ſubject to perpetual progreſs and variation; and more eſpecially ſince we have begun to complicate and refine it, we muſt let it go on; and where fancy and genius abound, the beſt things of laſt year muſt ceaſe to be the beſt of this,—as in Italy and Spain: but I think in France and England, they keep teazing and tiring every perſon of any muſical feelings with the ſame things to eternity.

Indeed we meet yet with ſome extem⯑porary performers of ſong in the coun⯑tries moſt muſically diſpoſed, as in Italy, Spain, Wales, Scotland; and of inſtrumen⯑tal, even in England. If your organiſts would travel, and get rid of their national old vulgar church ſtyle, their voluntaries might be worth hearing. I can fancy, at times, great things in the rapturous poetic effuſions of an ancient bard, ſinging in the ſtyle of a Homer or Oſſian, to his harp, partly extemporary, or on ſome known ſub⯑ject, [408] embelliſhed by the warmth of mo⯑mentary fancy: but ſince muſic has loſt her ſimple and ſublime, with her poetic origin and ardent admirers, and thence, perhaps, her beſt extemporary powers, her bards and minſtrels are no more; ſhe often becomes weak and ſickly, cold and languid, though very ingenious and refined; and her greateſt excellencies, her real and tranſcendent merits, are beyond the feelings and compre⯑henſion of thoſe who are not muſicians. I ſometimes imagine, if muſic were again to be taught at the common ſchools, we might perhaps rekindle ſome ſparks of the warm and ready genius for compoſition, make every body performers, and double the pleaſures of the world. It ſeems to be ſtill ſo taught in Germany; hence the muſical ſuperiority of the Germans; and hence they may go on, keep nearer to the Ita⯑lians, and leave the reſt of the world behind: but their ſtyle of muſic, as far as it may be called their own, is not perhaps yet fit for imitation, nor to take a lead: it ſeems pe⯑culiar to themſelves, and had better be left and admired in their own hands: it ſeems [409] to me too much broken and affected, not ſufficiently ſimple and natural; pieced and patched out with very pretty materials, but which ſeldom join well, ſo as to form a good and entire whole: it ſeems a pretty and a peculiar ſpecies, but not a comprehenſive claſs or genus: it is the minute and rich Arabeſque, but not the grand and ſimple Grecian architecture.

All ranks and profeſſions are intereſted, and all ſhould join in promoting good taſte in all the arts, and ſhould aſſiſt, or contri⯑bute towards the forming ſome fund for ſending young people abroad, and in eſta⯑bliſhing good ſchools at home, ſome for muſic, under Italian maſters, like thoſe at Naples ^*. There ſhould be public employ⯑ments for the greateſt proficients, — for [410] thoſe who had got beyond every nationa⯑lity of ſtyle and manner, and had gained certain prizes at Rome. No maſter of muſic, for example, ſhould be admitted as candidate for certain poſts, till he had com⯑poſed, at leaſt, one Italian opera to ſtand the teſt of a Roman audience. Half the muſical expences of your rich and great, beſtowed in this way, would have double the effect on the national taſte and genius.

We have divided the liberal, in imitation of the uſeful arts, perhaps too much: ſome of the ancients had better ideas of thoſe things, and of their mutual connection: with them, muſic and dancing comprehend⯑ed more objects, which they perceived to be mutually dependent: we have ſeparated thoſe into more parts, and may thereby have advanced ſome of them farther: but thoſe parts have now almoſt forgot each other; they go on ſingly, and are ſcarcely now parts of the ſame whole: their uſes and connection may together be forgot. A very good violiniſt, for inſtance, is now often but an indifferent judge of ſong, and [411] the profeſſor on one inſtrument does not often underſtand the muſic of another: the moral uſes of muſic likewiſe, its na⯑tural influence on the paſſions, manners, and on the other arts, may gradually diſ⯑appear.

Had it not been for the Italians, muſic might have been left to degenerate in the cold hands of cloiſtered ſuperſtition, and in thoſe of itinerant fiddlers and pipers; for, alas! the poor bards, who might have been formed into ſome uſeful and elegant inſtitutions, were barbarouſly cruſhed be⯑fore muſic, taſte, and letters, could be ſaid to revive: colleges of ſuch men might have been eſtabliſhed, ſo as to preſerve and im⯑prove all the connected arts, and would have linked former with preſent and with future times: or if Italy had recovered her liberty and importance with that glimpſe of taſte and knowledge in the fifteenth cen⯑tury, and had underſtood the art of go⯑vernment as well as ſome of the others, all the arts, in her hands, might have gone on to improve each other without interruption, [412] and might, from thence, have ſpread and fructified much more throughout Europe: but then Italy would perhaps have con⯑quered the world again: however, the danger, the poſſibility of that progreſs is now probably paſt, and not likely ſoon to return. We cannot expect, that thoſe things can ever be taken up again with the vigour of youth, by old and worn-out na⯑tions, reduced by oppreſſion, ſuperſtition, and indolence.

Till ſome nation ariſe, beginning from the uſual rude ſtate, governed in the true old paternal and patriotic ſpirit,—the poet, philoſopher, magiſtrate, and muſician, fre⯑quently united in the ſame perſon,—till then, we cannot perhaps expect to ſee revived the great character and enlarged features of muſic, and the other arts,—nor a ſufficient plenty of warm, poetic, muſical, and heroic, minds,—nor the true ſpirit of ſociety and government, of education and happineſs, on principles ſufficiently ſimple and perfect. Since moſt of the European nations have ſo long paſſed thoſe periods, [413] this kind of retroſpect and romantic ſpecu⯑lation may be thought vain and fruitleſs; but if we do not ſometimes look back on the line we have paſſed, we cannot ſo well judge of that before us. However, the preſent delightful, though refined and com⯑plicated art of muſic, will probably be preſerved by the Italians, even beyond the other arts, ſupported by their beautiful language.

Since all words are not fit to be ſung, nor are they much more ſo for being in verſe, the compoſer, now the only judge who muſt determine theſe things, ſhould ſometimes be the poet likewiſe; like Scar⯑latti and ſome others: he ſhould be a man of liberal education, of extenſive genius and knowledge, and a great practical muſician— a firſt-rate character. We ſhall not, pro⯑bably, till then, get rid of the idea of poetic meaſure, jingle and rhyme, being always neceſſary to aria; nor of other ſimilar bar⯑bariſms proceeding from the too great di⯑viſion of the arts, and their unacquaintance with each other.

[414]It may be thought, by ſome, that we have already muſic enough, and that we may have nearly exhauſted the beſt muſical ideas: on the contrary, I think much, and per⯑haps the beſt, is yet to come. When we return from our erratic excurſions, and find and keep the true path, and ſtudy effects, the fineſt things may yet be produced. I have ſometimes fancied, that a great com⯑poſer could ſet a whole ſtory or opera to ſerious muſic, without words;—or could begin, by fancying or creating the muſic, and finding the words afterwards: we ſee ſome of the ballets tolerably done in this way, and they would be ſtill better if not ſo full of French muſic and French dan⯑cing. Much ſilent, expreſſive, but tem⯑perate, action,—great variety of well ac⯑companied recitative, might all be oftener, and more ſucceſsfully uſed than hitherto, though we have already ſeen very fine ſcenes of that kind: when the nature and effects of aria, contraſted with recitative, come to be underſtood; when the different kinds of coro and ſemi-coro, intermixing, and alternating with ſingle voices, and with [415] diſtant ſounds, which may occaſionally ap⯑proach and retire; when theſe and many other things come to be well ſtudied and known, the greateſt effects may be expected; and then thoſe ſcenes of diſtreſs,—of extreme ſorrow, terror, horror, or deſpair, which we have ſeen ſo well expreſſed by Sacchini and others, are, however, yet far from being exhauſted: they who do not ſee through theſe, a large field open for future effects and improvements, are not made to feel or to advance the art. Some fine muſical ſcenes open to the mind ſuch vaſt conceptions, that the art appears infinite. Some other parts, as the duo—thoſe beauti⯑ful ſoliloquies and pathetic arias,—ſome ſolitary ſcenes of diſtreſs, have all been al⯑ready ſo well executed, that one can only attempt to conceive how they may be varied without loſs. Thoſe ſcenes, with different degrees of contending affections,—different ſteps and burſts of paſſion,—the ſudden tranſition from recitative to aria, from that again to another, and the contrary; many of theſe have been well felt and underſtood, and highly worked up,—but never, I be⯑lieve, [416] with much ſucceſs out of Italy; that ſublime part, not even the firſt of the Ger⯑mans could ever fully feel, comprehend, or execute, unleſs it were ſuch of them as became Italians, like Haſſe, Gluck, &c.

Yes, we muſt all ſubmit to the Italians; they muſt yet dictate in this, and all the other arts of taſte: but, alas! it is melan⯑choly to ſee thoſe arts with ſuch threatening ſymptoms of decline in their native Italian ſoil, amidſt ſo many ſurrounding advan⯑tages, upon which their growth and cultiva⯑tion have been thought to depend: but many other things are neceſſary to their ſupport, beſides thoſe advantages: without ſome radical change in their governments, the Italians will probably go on to decline in the arts, as in induſtry, virtue, and public ſpirit. In order to be great in one thing, we muſt probably be great in all,— in arts and in arms: many things, nay, every thing is perhaps neceſſary to raiſe a people to any great attempts; our pride, our ambition, and intereſt, muſt all be flattered, and gradually fed with hopes and [417] rewards, in order to make us move and exert ourſelves: where any thing material is wanting, we are ready enough to find excuſes for our neglect or indolence, and naturally gravitate towards repoſe. To advance far in the arts, a nation muſt like⯑wiſe be of ſome political importance in the general ſcale, capable of national pride, and equal to the pre-eminence of taking the lead in ſome things of importance: there muſt be motives ſufficient to attempt great eſtabliſhments on grand and com⯑prehenſive views,—to ſtimulate and tranſ⯑port the minds of men not only to the labour of imitation, but up to the pride and warmth of original invention.

The great effects and love of muſic in other times and countries, might be no proof of its merit according to our ſtandard. We ſee nations, who have only a few poor ſimple tunes, become fonder of them than we of the choiceſt of all our great variety. Luxury and plenty pall and blunt the ap⯑petite. The mountaineer loves his miſer⯑able rocks and glens, probably, far more [418] than the inhabitant of the richer plains does his cultivated fields; and theſe dif⯑ferent degrees of paſſion and attachment will produce proportional differences on their minds; the one warm and wild, the other cold and ſedate: even in modern times, we know that whole armies have been fired to enthuſiaſtic degrees of exer⯑tion, by the timely ſtriking up of ſome fa⯑vourite national air or ſong: it has been practiſed with Highlanders, Swiſs, Ruſſians. Pleaſures are providentially more equally diſtributed than they appear to be: they who have but few good things, happily, ſeem to reliſh them in a kind of inverſe ratio of their number.

But it was not muſic, as ſuch, in our idea, it was poetry recited or ſung, as be⯑fore obſerved, that ſo pleaſed and affected ſome of the Greeks;—it was ſome kind of muſical declamation. In Italy, in their public ſpeaking and preaching, and in re⯑citing of verſe, they have ſtill ſome ſuch tune, which indeed we do not at firſt much like; but it may have ſuffered great change, [419] by paſſing ſo long through the medium of monkiſh ignorance and bad taſte: on the revival of muſic, cloiſtered learning might take one road, and that of ſociety and the ſtage another; that this tune, our chaunts, the Spaniſh romance, and the preſent Ita⯑lian recitative, may all have proceeded from the ſame ſource, though now ſo different. The ancient Greek modes, with their muſic, their declamation, and poetry, all con⯑nected, I can conceive, might have pro⯑digious effects, and a permanent influence on their manners and character. When they became a Roman province, they pro⯑bably ſoon loſt thoſe elegant ideas and amuſements. Polybius, I believe, was among the laſt of their writers who ſaw, and was ſenſible of all the poſſible influence of muſic; and it is vexatious to think, that probably no one will ever ſee it again.

We muſt ſuppoſe the Greeks had ſome good muſic, they felt ſo true and refined, ſo juſtly in every thing. It ſeems they had a method of notation, and with the niceſt ears and ſenſibility adverted to every thing [420] in ſounds and language: yet we ſee all was inſufficient to tranſmit their modes of pro⯑nunciation, of ſpeaking, reciting: we may wiſh they had poſſeſſed a notation more like ours, to have tranſmitted to us more of their meaning.

We moderns have no muſical lan⯑guage: the expreſſion, taken from the an⯑cients, is now unintelligible to us: we have no language that ſings, though we have muſic that ſpeaks or expreſſes the paſſions, in ways however of its own, quite different from thoſe of our elocution: the Italian being the beſt language for ſinging, ſeems to have happened almoſt by accident, or partly, perhaps, from ſome communication with the Greeks: the latter Romans had probably refined their taſte and pronuncia⯑tion by the uſe of the Greek language; that taſte, with the acquired habits, powers, and poſture of the organs, might have ſome influence in the formation of the lan⯑guage, which came afterwards to be gradual⯑ly produced from the Latin, and the other languages of their neighbours and conquer⯑ors, [421] viz. the preſent Italian; the ſinging did not probably grow up with it, but was afterwards taken up from the church. The Greeks, proceeding in a contrary direction, had probably formed a ſpecies of muſic and ſong, built on the accents and tones of their language, by which the degree of expreſ⯑ſion might be greatly heightened, and with⯑out being totally changed, as is the caſe with all our verbal expreſſions the moment we begin to ſing any of them: none of the tones or intervals of our muſic having any relation to thoſe of ſpeaking, nor can the one ever recal the other to mind.

It is perhaps poſſible to note down com⯑mon ſpeech in Mr. Steele's way, but not by our preſent diatonic ſcale; and when it is done and performed on an inſtrument, it can give us no idea of any muſic or accom⯑paniment. Mr. S. complains of a prefer⯑ence being often given in ſong to a pretty muſical idea, though it run counter to every accentual property of the words: certainly, it muſt be ſo with our muſic; though it ought not often to run counter, it muſt [422] take a different path of its own: this is not an abuſe, but a neceſſary conſequence of the now innate difference between the muſical and poetical expreſſions, which have no relation to each other in tone, time, or rythmus, but only in the ſentiment. The neareſt reſemblance may be thought to con⯑ſiſt in the time; but in ſpeaking the moſt meaſured proſe or verſe, you will find that muſical time is never the ſtandard the mind refers to: and the fancied diviſion of mu⯑ſical bars in language, is too forced a con⯑ceit, and never can be applied: and no ſounds can be muſic to us, nor give us any idea of muſical expreſſion, except thoſe upon the ſcale which we have been ac⯑cuſtomed to conſider and to feel as muſic.

A few more remarks on the taſte and genius of our merry friends here, before we quit them. With all their vivacity, and great abilities and paſſion for muſic, I think it is allowed, that they ſucceed as badly as any of us, and ſeldomer pleaſe any but themſelves in their compoſitions or perform⯑ance,—but more eſpecially in the vocal: [423] yet, I think, while they keep within the limits of what may be called the lively or buffa ſpecies of muſic, where the time is well marked, and its motion eſſential, they are leſs offenſive; many of their little airs, we all know, are rather pleaſing to the moſt general or common taſte, and that ſome of them are rather more than popular, or vulgarly pretty—if they could ſing them. But generally, in proportion as the French venture beyond thoſe limits (which they too frequently do), and attempt any ſerious expreſſion of the great paſſions, then they as gradually become ridiculous, and pre⯑ſently get into the vulgar ſcream or howl, of extreme paſſion, or bodily pain, which is quite intolerable to every body but them⯑ſelves: generally in extremes, they know but few of the numerous ſhades between, and where beauty and elegance generally dwell. But in every thing lively or comic they certainly excel; and their petite opera, in ſpite of their unfortunate language, voice, and manner, generally goes off tolerably well, on account of their natural, correct, and graceful action. Indeed, the wit and [424] humour, the lively or comic, of every na⯑tion, is moſtly excellent in its way, and being rather local, is what no foreigner can with propriety pretend to criticiſe; and theirs, with the addition of the graces peculiar to themſelves, becomes ſometimes excellent. But the ſerious being more uni⯑verſal, and belonging to humanity in ge⯑neral, all are competent to decide on its merits or reſemblance.

Though our muſical taſte in England may be equally deficient, yet from ſome things that have been formerly produced among us, I can conceive a certain degree of capability in our diſpoſition and language, to⯑wards a kind of wild romantic or melancholy ſong, which might be carried much farther, if we could more frequently produce a Shakeſpear to write, and a Purcel to compoſe and to ſing, or rather one to do all, and a ſucceſſion of ſuch men; but now, I believe, the wiſeſt thing for us would be to remain ſilent for a while, and let the Italians ſing to us, and travel to Italy while young, till we learn to ſing like them: indeed, theirs [425] is probably the only language now fit to be ſung, and all nations, who have any taſte, will learn and adopt it for that purpoſe, as Spain and Portugal. Nor are theſe things of ſuch ſmall conſequence as may at firſt appear: if we have ſpoiled our mouths, our language, and our ears, by falſe delicacy and affectation, theſe defects will extend to ſeemingly diſtant objects: the ſenſe em⯑ployed in judging of theſe things can like⯑wiſe judge of others; and when it is ſpoiled, its errors and deficiencies will have influ⯑ence, not only on our muſic, but on all ſubjects where the ear and the mouth are concerned, and perhaps on many others where the connection is leſs obvious.

By accumulation, analogous ſentiments aſſiſt and augment each other prodigiouſly: they multiply and increaſe the impreſſions, in ſome duplicate or higher proportion, much beyond the ſum of all: if, for ex⯑ample, in muſic, to a fine tone be added the chiarezza, vaghezza, and good modu⯑lation, and then a good portamento, the effects will increaſe in ſome ſuch progreſ⯑ſion; [426] and, converſely, a deficiency in any of theſe will proportionally affect the whole: now, I fear, we are generally de⯑ficient in moſt of theſe, and ſometimes in all. This doctrine of accumulation is curious: it goes much farther, and takes in the objects of different ſenſes; numerous inſtances of which might be given, but which I muſt leave your fancy to purſue.

Taſte and her attendant graces are at length introduced, though late, into your iſland, and are, doubtleſs, making ſome progreſs, though they ſpread themſelves but ſlowly over the face of your country, and find but little ſpace to dwell between the approaching extremes of vulgarity and affectation. Yet, I think, you may, by your uſual perſeverance, ſucceed, and get beyond all the other nations, except Italy, in moſt of the arts; you, philoſophers, may go on and diſcover on what their ad⯑vancement depends, if you can eſcape the danger of that national conceit which diſ⯑dains foreign aſſiſtance: you may ſee the inſufficiency of wealth alone, and the [427] power of other incentives, more ſuited to the ambition and the caprices of genius; you may perhaps, in time, complete the chain on which their advancement depends, but which the want of a link may render uſeleſs.

The obſervation of your friend is ſenſible, and perhaps ſometimes true, though pro⯑bably more ingenious than ſolid, viz. that muſical people may not be ſo well qualified to judge of the beauties of language as ſome others: and that, accuſtomed to the richer ſounds of muſic, they may not have much reliſh for the more tame and rational beau⯑ties of ſpeech. I have obſerved, that few of the poets of theſe days have much taſte for muſic, but I have known muſicians who had a taſte for poetry: all this is from beſtowing too much time and atten⯑tion on one thing, and remaining unac⯑quainted with others, from a too great di⯑viſion of the arts; and the muſical ear, when turned to thoſe objects, will be found, at leaſt, as capable of diſtinguiſhing as any other ^*.

LETTER XXII. Paris. — France. — Poetry, French and Italian.—Of Writing.

BEFORE you leave home, you will, of courſe, direct your reading to the objects in view, and ſee your own country: without theſe it would, indeed, be hardly worth while to go abroad and waſte the time, which, in many other caſes, becomes doubtful if it might not be better ſpent at home: but if you mean, like too many of our young travellers, to run away from your ſtudies, or from yourſelf, into all the French non-ſenſe and etourderie of the faſhionable and fooliſh world, I have no advice to give, nor could you take it if I had: not that I wiſh to curtail the few trappings and plea⯑ſures of life, and cut utility to the quick; I only mean to relinquiſh adviſing, in mat⯑ters [430] of mere amuſement, to others better qualified, and to recommend mixing buſi⯑neſs with pleaſure for the advantage of both, and am totally againſt travelling without ſome tutor or friend; it will re⯑quire all the efforts and knowledge of both to extract the eſſence of utility in travelling. We ſee too many idle and vicious young Engliſhmen, running about the world alone, without either reſtraint or aſſiſt⯑ance, both of which they ſtand ſo much in need of.

This ſame Paris you may find a very agreeable place, if you are well recom⯑mended, and likewiſe very uſeful to your views of ſtudy, if you have reſolution enough not to be diſſipated by its frivolous amuſe⯑ments; which is not ſo difficult, I think, as in London; and you may be leſs ſubject to various diſtractions and interruptions. This is more like a great country town, and not the ſeat of the court, nor of commerce, and therefore, I conceive, more agreeable. Peo⯑ple here ſeem to have more leiſure and in⯑clination to converſe,—to ſtudy, or philo⯑ſophize [431] with us; while in London, you all ſeem perpetually abſorbed in ſome anxi⯑ous purſuit,—in the hurry and fatigue of buſineſs. Hence the agreeable arts of life are here more conſidered and improved, though oftner mixed up with a trifling or bad taſte. Many things that are treated with neglect and contempt by your ſulky matter-of-fact-men, become here of an agreeable importance. And if their people of faſhion, their artiſts, teachers, modiſtes, &c. had but a little more true taſte, travel, and knowledge of nature, many of their trifles might probably grow into real con⯑ſequence among people of ſenſe, through⯑out the reſt of Europe, as well as here. If it ſhould become the faſhion among them, again, to travel, and to encourage ſtrangers of merit, their ſuperior vivacity and quick⯑neſs of abilities would again appear, and turn to account.

If you can ſteadily purſue your plan of ſtudies here, in chemiſtry, anatomy, phi⯑loſophy, you may get more uſeful know⯑ledge in two years, than in all the five you [432] have paſſed at college. I am only in doubt if ſome of the time might not be better paſſed in ſome part of Germany, were it only for the habits of ſteadineſs and application which may be acquired there.

To this agreeable nation and language, the world is, and may yet be indebted for many good things. Their manners and converſation, as well as ſituation, may long continue to attract the ſtrangers of every country, and form a beneficial intimacy among us all—a kind of ſtandard and point of re-union for European manners and ſociety, which may have influence even on public meaſures and opinions, may ſoften and humanize the unfeeling maxims of ſtate policy, and retard our falling, or driving each other, back into barbariſm. We may, and perhaps ought, now to go on and poliſh ourſelves upon them, and may gain more than we loſe, by rubbing off ſome, though formerly valuable and diſtinguiſhing, points of national character. As nations mix and become better members of this European ſociety, or republic, [433] which ſeems now gradually to aſſimilate and aſſociate more intimately than former⯑ly. We muſt all conform, in many things, to what the majority may pleaſe to deter⯑mine: ſo that it becomes daily more ne⯑ceſſary, that this central and leading nation be well ſtudied and known, eſpecially by all thoſe who may have any public part to act.

Although, in judging of taſte and ſenti⯑ment, we can, none of us, pretend to abſo⯑lute impartiality, and although I am, rather voluntarily, an imperfect critic in poetic affairs; yet, you ſee we are not therefore deterred from judging for ourſelves, and I feel not the leſs decided, even in the moſt ſingular opinions. You know, that I think they have hardly any poetry in French, and, to my ear, their language is incapable of the true ſublime. Whatever good ſenſe, or beautiful imagery, we may admire in their beſt poets, thoſe are produced inde⯑pendently of their language; nor can their ſentiments receive thoſe embelliſhments which are conveyed by ſound, till tranſlated [434] into languages more capable of beſtowing them. I have met with ſeveral of their pieces, which, in their native tongue, are ſenſible and intereſting, but, when tranſlated into Italian, become likewiſe beautiful, and hence more intereſting. I confeſs, how⯑ever, a decided partiality, you know, for the Italian, which, to me, appears the only modern language capable of expreſſ⯑ing the poetic beauties, by the help of ſounds. Nor does this predilection proceed entirely from its aptneſs for vocal muſic, as many of their firſt productions in poetry are not the fitteſt to be ſung: but this language ſeems now the only one poſſeſſed of thoſe beautiful combinations and arrangements of ſounds that can charm the ear as well as the underſtanding, and from the effects of accummulation, both theſe powers are mu⯑tually increaſed. And yet theſe ſounds are totally different from, and independent on muſic. It would be difficult and tedious to explain here, in what their effects and beau⯑ties conſiſt. To be ſenſible of them, the beſt way is to learn the language in the country.

[435]I ought likewiſe to confeſs, that what pleaſes me moſt is that familiar and natural ſimplicity we meet with in Petrarch, Dante, Boyardo, Arioſto, Boccacio, &c. &c. with which I am ſo charmed, that after reading them, I cannot, for a long time, reliſh any other ſtyle. A French burſting or drawl⯑ing attempt at ſublimity would then make me ſick.

Another, with different taſte and habits, might think this all prejudice or prepoſ⯑ſeſſion. Hence we are led to doubt the certainty of any ſtandard or fixed principles in taſte. And this uncertainty muſt pro⯑bably ever prevail in practice, after all that has been written and taught about it, ſo long as cuſtom continues to be a kind of ſecond nature. At leaſt, in this manner, are we obliged to ſettle the matter, as well as we can, in accounting for the great di⯑verſity in taſte, and of the opinions con⯑cerning it.

But although we can never bring all men to like and diſlike the ſame things, and in [436] the ſame degree, and each of us will have his own ſcale or gradation of beauties; yet we ſee ſome things are univerſally liked; and there are, doubtleſs, ſome principles, or extended limits, where beauty ends and deformity begins, and within which, men and nations may differ without being wrong.

Both we and the French have likewiſe had that ſimple naif manner of writing, before mentioned, and abandoned it again, I think, too ſoon, before it was perfected. They, ſoon after Montaigne, left, inſtead of imitating, his frank, eaſy, and graceful manner, which I conſider as the natural fort of their language: they have, ſince, attempted, and gone through, ſeveral dif⯑ferent ſtyles in writing, to ſome of which it is certainly not ſo well adapted. They have written in the turgid and conceited, in the tedious and languid, manner. The faſhion ſeems now, the rapid, ſhort, fiery ſtyle, of declaiming on every ſubject, which I think anſwers pretty well in ſome caſes, and ſuits the language, when em⯑ployed [437] with judgment and ſimplicity, in which, however, they are often deficient, and can ſeldom keep within the bounds of moderation. Voltaire I conſider as their great and beſt leader in this, and he has already had, and may yet have, ſome ſucceſsful followers. But you have, doubtleſs, al⯑ready good enough accounts of theſe things.

LETTER XXIII. The French a great Nation.—General Re⯑flections.

IN conſidering the French, we are ſome⯑times led to doubt or wonder, how a nation, made up of ſuch defects, under the moſt oppreſſive kind of government, could ever be ſo great in ſo many ways. On examining the country, and ſeeing how the people live,—bread almoſt their only food, and not always good, nor plenty: ſo ſmall a ſhare of the fruits of their own labour for themſelves, and that ſhare not very ſecure: though often apparently con⯑tented and happy, we muſt doubt the reali⯑ty of that happineſs:—if really contented with poverty and dependance—with dirt and miſery, we muſt expect but little vigour or exertion from ſuch a people. How⯑ever [439] we may be inclined, in ſpeculation, to magnify the influence of moral and phyſical defects, with which we are not much acquainted, and to feel too great a contempt for whatever differs from us, though only in appearance; we muſt re⯑collect, that men are men, though in rags and wooden ſhoes; and twenty millions of people ſo well ſituated, and compreſſed as theſe are, and with ſo happy a diſpoſition, if only left to themſelves, and protected from foreign injury, and from each other, even though conſiderably oppreſſed by their government; muſt ſtill be a great nation, as the world goes; dans le païs des aveugles, les borgnes ſont rois: and we know that theſe people have the art to appear ſtill greater than they really are, and to acquire more than their due ſhare of influence in the ſcale of Europe. With half their pre⯑ſent evils and impediments removed, they might perhaps be too great for all the reſt.

What a pity you Engliſh do not chuſe to be more amiable, that you might rival them in every thing, and even in their own way. [440] But, indeed, I think rudeneſs is now the mode in both countries: the French took it up, probably from fancying it was Eng⯑liſh, and we copy it from them. An af⯑fected cold ſtare of indifference, or noncha⯑lance, now meets you in all faſhionable ſocieties—it is alleged, by way of leaving you at your eaſe; very different from the over-anxious, the troubleſome attention and politeneſs of former times. Their morn⯑ing dreſs, which they call à l'Anglois, is per⯑fectly ſlovenly, and often naſty. The man⯑ners, in ſome provincial towns, where one meets yet with a little old-faſhioned civility and formality, de la vicille cour, I find far more agreeable.

There are certain advantages, if we knew how to uſe them, that attend every character and way of life. Even poverty has its advantages. This people, though not equal to us in ſtrength, reſolution, per⯑ſeverance, yet, in many ſituations, would be able to exiſt, while we ſhould ſtarve. And this we ſhall find to be the caſe, in ſome degree, on comparing ourſelves with [441] moſt of the other inhabitants of Europe. Great things have ſometimes been done by their armies. In the hands of a maſter, an indifferent inſtrument becomes a good one. The great man, who knows the fort and the foible of his nation, will do as much with ſuch indifferent tools as ſome others with the beſt.

Fortunately, mankind have generally ſome motives for exertion, and are natu⯑rally ſo bent on getting forwards, that they can hardly be kept back by the moſt power⯑ful impediments, ſuch as civil and religious tyranny, joined to ſhackle them. Their natural wants and paſſions will not let them ſit long ſtill. And here, their lively and agreeable manner, and perpetual appear⯑ance of activity, all help to impoſe a little, and make them ſeem capable of more than they really are. You know, that the world conſiders things in a ſlovenly way, and how few are above the vulgar methods of judging of men and things, of merit, of characters, by a few outward appear⯑ances, [442] or by ſome accidental ſucceſs; leav⯑ing the few obſervers of men to look nearer, and eſtimate their real value. You are a great nation, made up of great and ſolid materials, like the buildings of the Romans. This is a great nation, but com⯑poſed of leſſer materials, like the tabique walls of the Moors.

However, not only comparatively, but rather poſitively and intrinſically, we muſt allow this nation a great deal of merit, of induſtry, and other virtues, in ſpite of all their faults and weakneſſes,—of poverty and bad government. But they, as well as other people, are fitter for ſome things than for others. I ſhould, for example, think them fitter for manufactures than for agriculture or navigation. And it might be from ſome idea of this kind, that the great Colbert ſeemed to promote manufac⯑tures and commerce, beyond what the na⯑ture of the country has been thought to require, by other great men, as Sully, &c. They are known to be far better for an [443] attack than for defence, which you ſhould never forget. But I do not wiſh to give you remarks already well known.

It is not to prejudice you againſt this people, that I endeavour to ſift out their faults and defects. I wiſh to point out to you the leſs obvious, the hidden flaws of things, which you may, one day, exa⯑mine for yourſelf; and that you may be led to look farther than the ſurface of appearances, which is certainly full as ne⯑ceſſary in this country as in any other.

We all ſee through different mediums. It is difficult, and perhaps impoſſible, to give or acquire ſome ſorts of knowledge, without prejudice. All knowledge, that deſerves the name, tends to ſyſtem. Things, in order to be underſtood, muſt be arranged: but our ſyſtem once arran⯑ged, becomes itſelf the ſource of prejudices, and when joined to thoſe of habit and education, forms a ſtream which few can leave or withſtand. Do not previouſly, if you can help it, adopt any ſyſtem of mine, [444] nor any other, that may lead you to pre⯑judge the cauſe. Read and arrange, but doubt of all till you ſee.

But human nature would not advance, and experience would be of little ſervice to mankind, if that of each individual were confined to his own uſe. And yet it cannot often be taught, or applied to the uſe of others, ſo as to ſave them the trouble of going over the ſame ground, though it may help to direct them in their road.

In diſtinguiſhing what we ſhould be taught, from that which we ſhould teach ourſelves, we ſhall probably perceive, that in the early ſtages of ſociety, men are na⯑turally in the firſt extreme, of truſting to themſelves, and being taught too little: and that we moderns are arrived at the ſecond, of expecting too much from inſtruction, leaving too little to nature and to our own reſearches.

[445]I only meant to ſketch you out a few of the moſt ſtriking features of the out⯑line, to be filled up from your own fu⯑ture experience and obſervation. But with all my zeal and ſincerity, I may not ſuc⯑ceed, even in the little I attempt. I think we ſeldom can, in this way, give all the ideas we intend.

LETTER XXIV. Travellers. — French Peculiarities; their Civility, Etourderie, Urbanity, Philoſo⯑phy, Impoſing, Public Spirit.

THE fort of this people conſiſting chiefly in appearances, and of a very engaging kind, you will be more ſubject to over-rate their merits than their defects, and the danger will be in your finding them too agreeable. Many of us, who ſet out to viſit Europe, at leaſt, ſeem to be caught and attached here; and when we reflect, and aſk ourſelves, how we come to ſpend ſo much of our time and money among ſuch trifling people as here abound, of both natives and ſtrangers?—how, and where⯑fore, ſo many of us get together in theſe French towns, as if merely to walk about [447] and play cards?—we are, perhaps, aſhamed to confeſs all the truth, and have recourſe to various pretexts, to deceive ourſelves and our friends. At home, I think we hardly perceive ſo many idle people in the whole country, as may here be found, of Engliſh only, aſſembled in one French town. Our beſt travellers go farther. Our men of taſte and learning perſevere, and get on to Italy at leaſt. So that you will increaſe your advantages the farther you go. Be⯑ſides thoſe of ſeeing things more worthy your attention, you will meet with travel⯑lers more worth knowing than thoſe who ſtick faſt here, taken with the frivolous pleaſures of French ſocieties, and with the cringing obſequiouſneſs of the miſerable crowd.

I ſhould be more ſatisfied if we always acquired, by theſe little French trips, a greater eſteem and love for our own coun⯑try, as one would think we naturally ought; but I fear many return with leſs, inſtead of more, averſion to ſlavery and [448] wooden ſhoes: nay, there are ſome who are not aſhamed to profeſs a preference for theſe poor tyrannized countries, inſiſting, that it is only ſuch that are fit for a gentle⯑man to live in: but, indeed, that is gene⯑rally after their return, for, while here, I think we all agree, as uſual, in abuſing the country where we live.

Nevertheleſs, I am ſtill a warm advocate for travelling whenever it is poſſible, and I fancy that ſomething good always ſticks, even to the idleſt of our ramblers; and that they may afterwards be always readily diſtinguiſhed from the mere John Bull, fox-hunter, or country ſquire, by their con⯑verſation, attention, or ſomething in their manner.

Although we Engliſh generally aſſort and live too much together abroad, ſome few of us, however, as ſtragglers from the main body, prefer the company of the French; and they, on perceiving our deſire to be acquainted, meet us more than half way, [449] in that prettieſt frank and cheerful manner with which, indeed, they do every thing. They are extremely and agreeably good, and ſpare no pains, nor civility, to oblige us, while we take care not to put them to any expence, to which they are not eaſily inclined: a diſpoſition which I approve. Their ſpirit of oeco⯑nomy is, to me, delightful, and ought to make us aſhamed of our extravagance, inſtead of the contrary, which we too ge⯑nerally feel.

Certainly nothing can be more complete⯑ly agreeable than ſome of their people of faſhion. The troubleſome affectation of etourderie, in their young men, I find the leaſt bearable part of their ſociety. A young Frenchman is like a greyhound puppy, and teazes you without mercy or meaning. But the grace and readineſs of their manner and converſation makes one wiſh to forgive them a thouſand things. The French, in general, like the ladies, are never awkward, except where ſtrength is required—Si manierés, as they ſo pret⯑tily [450] expreſs it. It is vain, and mean, in your beaux, to attempt to copy theſe. In ſome men of riper years, we meet with all the graces of youth, joined with that ur⯑banity, attention, and good ſenſe, which all agree to admire, and wiſh to imitate, as the confeſſed model of manner and converſation: and in all ſorts of good behaviour, ſome of them may nearly deſerve the place they aſſume of dictators, and in fact, may ſtand next to the Spaniards, who, I think, are yet univerſally the beſt-behaved people in Europe, and the only people, in any given circumſtances, whoſe behaviour may be entirely depended on. I fear the Engliſh begin to be leſs conſidered and ſought after, in this country, than for⯑merly.

You already know the high eſteem and reſpect due here to many of their philoſo⯑phers and men of letters, who have laid open ſcience, and combated error, even in the ſtate, with a ſpirit that would do ho⯑nour to the freeſt nations: and that the ladies have regained, and have nobly joined [451] much of their natural influence, towards bringing philoſophy and ſcience into real and active life: and though ſucceſs, as to general and practical utility, is probably limited nearly within the preſent circle, by the nature of their government and reli⯑gion; yet they have brought much uſeful and agreeable knowledge to light, and have laid it ready to be taken up by the people whenever they may have liberty and ſecurity enough to make it worth their while, and when their government may conſiſt of the wiſdom and virtue that may then be found in ſuch a na⯑tion.

We ought not, perhaps, to be ſo rigid, as to condemn or deſpiſe their little arts of deceiving themſelves, and us, a little, into ſuppoſing that the uſeful ſciences are ge⯑nerally cultivated and applied throughout the country, becauſe they write and talk ſo well about them at Paris. Nay, we may admire that addreſs with which they prejudice us all in their favour, and per⯑ſuade more than half Europe to believe the [452] French nation, in general, to be as clever and informed as they appear in their books and converſation. And they, every where, get ſome credit for moſt of thoſe ſuperiori⯑ties which they are ever ſo ready to aſſume. We are eaſily caught by their pleaſing con⯑verſation and writings, and are not then diſpoſed to examine too ſtrictly into the validity of their pretenſions, or of the many excellent terms and expreſſions with which their pretty little language abounds, as if made up on purpoſe to cover their want of the realities.

From your knowledge of their character, and of their love of faſhion, it is natural enough that you, in England, ſhould be taken in, and believe that the whole nation may be influenced by a few philoſophers in the capital, and that they are leading each other on to the higheſt improvements; forgetting that the poverty of the people alone, will long render any material im⯑provement impoſſible.

[453]You might likewiſe think them like yourſelves; each, in ſome degree, inte⯑reſted about the public good: among you, any little event or opinion may preſently become the object of general attention, and its influence fly quickly through your iſland, by means of your numerous papers, and affect the opinions, and even the con⯑duct, of many; forgetting all the while, that this is almoſt peculiar to ourſelves: deſpotic power tends to ſeparate or inſulate every place, and almoſt every perſon, from the reſt: nothing but faſhion is intereſting enough here, to carry any thing through the whole nation. Any effectual reform in their government or conſtitution is highly improbable: none but the princes can ever have power enough to do it; and we know how unlikely it is, from their education and national diſpoſition, that any of them can ever have the will, the knowledge, or cha⯑racter equal to it. Some of them may form a thouſand over-wiſe and farcical regula⯑tions, and without producing any good ef⯑fects: till they reſtore and improve the con⯑ſtitution, they cannot make the people exert [454] themſelves near to their full force, nor ob⯑lige their ſuperiors to do them juſtice. And this is, perhaps, impoſſible, till the people have more property and are well re⯑preſented in the legiſlature, and we know their inadequate ideas of repreſentation. The people are—nothing: the nobility, army, and church, form the nation, and muſt always probably ſide with the mo⯑narch. How is it poſſible to reform ſuch a ſtate?

I think, in general, a people ſhew an indifference about public affairs, nearly ac⯑cording to the degrees of oppreſſion with which they are ruled. Its being ſo much the caſe here, I conſider as a more deadly political ſymptom than any of yours, which, though more violent, are not ſo dangerous, nor incurable. Your mobs, robberies, diſorderly elections—all thoſe marks of licentiouſneſs more than of li⯑berty,—of the deficiencies in your police, and of your being too little governed, are not, however, ſo irremediable as this tranquillity and indifference, the ſure mark [455] of their being governed too much. Your temporary follies, and perpetual party ani⯑moſities, produce ſo much leſs miſchief, than ſuch things any where elſe. In ſhort, your ſymptoms are only thoſe of rude health, while theirs indicate a chronic and incurable diſorder.

LETTER XXV. On our Changes in Taſte, &c. — Of the French Military.

YOU need not fear my becoming a convert to French manners and opinions, or that I ſhall deviate much from my firſt plan, which was, to deal more in finding fault, than in finding out things worthy of praiſe or imitation. The firſt I ſtill think one of the great pleaſures and advantages of travelling: it maintains and increaſes our ideas of improvement and perfection; and theſe are ideas of great importance in the world, though they ſhould never be put in practice. The ſecond claſs, viz. of good things, ſuch as are worthy of imitation, become obvious enough, and will ſtrike at ſight, without being pointed out, and are generally better [457] known than the defects, which are the proper objects of improvement.

But I have no objection to change, nor to tell you when I do; as I wiſh not to conceal, but to ſhew you every part of the hiſtory of my own mind, that I think may be of any uſe to you; though we are very apt to be obſtinate in ſupport of what we have once happened to advance, probably from a natural idea of the importance of being conſiſtent,—but oftener, I fear, from a falſe pride.

I may, doubtleſs, be gradually reconcil⯑ed, by habit, to many things which re⯑volted me at firſt; but, I doubt, I muſt always retain my firſt diſlike of others. I muſt ſtill inſiſt on finding fault, for example, with their taſte in moſt of the fine arts,— in muſic, poetry, tragic action, drawing, architecture,—with their government and adminiſtration,—with ſeveral inſtitutions,— with their taxes, farming, ſeveral trades; and muſt ever regret the poverty and op⯑preſſion of their lower claſſes. Although [458] ſo great a difference of taſte and ſentiment be a kind of a ſocial loſs to myſelf, not to reliſh or enjoy what I often ſee all around me enraptured with; yet I cannot always feel with them, though I have made many, and ſome ſucceſsful, endeavours for that purpoſe.

You know their military character, and their paſſion for arms, which proceeds chiefly, I believe, from a kind of vanity, and partly, perhaps, to revenge their do⯑meſtic ſlavery on their neighbours. They were among the firſt who contributed to bring us all under the ruinous neceſſity of keeping up theſe numerous ſtanding armies, which will probably, in time, again deſtroy all good government, and involve the world in tyranny and barbariſm once more, unleſs their increaſe be checked, and their conſtitu⯑tion improved, by gradually reverting to militias to ſupply them with men, and partly to ſupply their places; and by reſtoring good legiſlation with military education, and thence morals, manners, and good order. The French have, perhaps, occaſion for greater [459] armies than ſome other nations, to do the ſame buſineſs, becauſe a weaker race of people, and more eaſily diſſolved by fa⯑tigue. During an ordinary campaign, they have often had one-third, or more, of their army in the hoſpitals.

By theſe ſtanding armies, their govern⯑ment has obtained the double object, of oppoſing their enemies abroad, and ſub⯑duing the nation at home. And the in⯑tention has ſucceeded. This nation appears now habitually fixed, by character and in⯑clination, in that ſubmiſſive and impove⯑riſhed ſyſtem. Though formerly more fe⯑rocious, turbulent, and factious, as during their civil wars, they are now the moſt pliant and eaſy to govern of any people we know: ſo that they would not now know what to do with their liberty, if they had it. And if ſuch a government could make the good of the people a primary object, they would ere now, and might very ſafely, have reduced their peace eſta⯑bliſhment, at leaſt to half its preſent num⯑ber, and have eaſed the ſubject of many [460] heavy burdens and regulations. But power is ever unfeeling; and the more abſolute, the more ſuſpicious, careleſs, and incon⯑ſiſtent.

They are likewiſe perpetually changing their military ſyſtems and regulations, but I think ſeldom gain by the change near ſo much as to make up for the inevitable evils of changing. It is generally wiſer to mend the old than to make new, and even the moſt neceſſary changes ſhould be gra⯑dual, if poſſible. Concerning minutiae, which ſhould generally be conſtant, they are often innovating, and diſputing with a degree of heat and animoſity to which we are ſtrangers. Already the Count St. G—, after labouring moſt patriotically to intro⯑duce his ſyſtem, muſt probably ſee its original merits worn down by oppoſition and intrigue, to a few alterations of the leaſt importance: and the Count himſelf, it ſeems, muſt ſoon give up even theſe, and the army, to ſome other commanders and ſyſtems, perhaps more trifling and ca⯑pricious. If the cabals and the genius of [461] the nation would permit them to retain what is good of his regulations,—if they could keep only the oeconomical parts, they might gain more than by any other of their changes for a long time paſt. Their troops were certainly getting into what is called very high order, and if well commanded, they might ſoon be made capable of many things, though not of fatigue and perſe⯑verance.

But it is in the ordnance, as we ſhould call it, where the greateſt changes, and the bittereſt controverſies, have lately taken place between Monſ. G—, and his op⯑ponents, and which have divided the corps royale into two inveterate parties. Surely all the other nations together, could not have ſaid and written ſo much about ſhort and long guns, and without deciding any thing.

I am tired with reading the numerous publications on this endleſs controverſy, and have given it up till ſome one ſhall [462] collect the ſubſtance of it ^*. The experi⯑ments of either party are not calculated to diſcover the truth, but to get the better of their opponents. The French are not na⯑turally very fit to carry on experiments. That taſk requires a more perſevering, im⯑partial, cool, and philoſophic turn of mind.

You know they have been lately very attentive to their navy, to which, in conſequence, I think it behoves us to be very attentive likewiſe, and to watch all their operations. The hiſtory of what they have done, in this department, ſince the time of Louis XIV. and of what they are now doing, would form a curious col⯑lection, and like themſelves, and indeed like moſt other human ideas and in⯑ſtitutions,—a mixture of ſenſe and non⯑ſenſe.

In ſome chief points, they are as far in one extreme as you are in the other.— [463] Their depending, as uſual, more on theory than on practice, while we continue in the contrary extreme, is all characteriſtic of the two nations.

The power and expenditure of the mi⯑litary part, are not ſufficiently controlled by the civil; and we know that the com⯑mon, degrees of human integrity, when uncontrolled, are not to be depended on: in ſuch a caſe, ſome abuſes muſt creep in, and when once introduced, each will bring a crowd of others. Their preſent marine ſyſtem may not, therefore, be much more laſting and incorruptible, than any of the former.

They place great dependance on certain ſea manoeuvres: but military novelties, and their effects, muſt ſoon be over, be⯑fore a vigilant enemy. In wars between European powers, ſuch art or artifice can⯑not give much durable advantage, nor long overcome real ſtrength. Happily, per⯑haps, for mankind, we are all now ſo nearly on a footing, and communicate ſo [464] freely, that any of the arts uſed in war by one power, may be preſently tranſ⯑mitted to the reſt, and may be evaded or counteracted, ſo that all is ſoon reduced again to the deciſion of actual force, general⯑ſhip, and the chances of war.

LETTER XXVI. The Schools, Military, &c.—Of the Monaſtic Orders and Superſtition.

THE modes and places of education are, in every country, worthy of at⯑tention, and as an officer, you will, of courſe, inquire and take notice of their military ſchools here. I ſhall only obſerve, that you will probably find their volumi⯑nous regulations, as uſual, to be better on paper than in practice. They plan much better than they execute, which is juſt the contrary, I believe, with us. So that we might, in many ways, learn of each other. We can often borrow their ideas, and im⯑prove upon them in the execution. We can ſometimes execute what they only talk of: with, perhaps, more judgment, and certainly better workmen, we may get more from their books than from their [466] practice: but we ſhould ſee both. I hope you will find, with me, that we have been eſtimating their ſchools, and ſcholaſtic modes of education, a little too high. Theſe appear to me yet more faulty than our own, either from defect or redundancy. They teach either nothing or too much. We are often ſurpriſed at the ignorance of ſome very decent looking men; and the common people are taught nothing at ſchool but the ſuperſtitious ceremonies of religion. Even their beſt places of education, though they may ſerve to model Frenchmen, are ſurely improper and inſufficient to form Engliſhmen. Men are here to be framed, modelled, and cut to a pattern, and nothing left to nature: it is the bed of Procruſtes, where people are to be ſhortened or length⯑ened ſo as to fit it.

I fear we muſt allow that education, for many of the practical and important offices in ſociety, is yet very deficient among us: theory and practice are yet far from being ſufficiently acquainted. Our idle univerſi⯑ties ſeem to fit people for few, or no very [467] uſeful purpoſes in life, except the church. Pride, idleneſs, or uſeleſs knowledge, ſeem to be too frequently the chief acquirements there: and moſt of our other ſchools, and eſpecially boarding-ſchools and academies about town, are mere expenſive impoſi⯑tions. Our military education has pro⯑bably been the moſt defective: we have produced but few officers fit to command armies; and thoſe few have come from among the choſen number who have had the military ambition and enthuſiaſm ſo ſtrong as to make them travel, inquire, and ſerve, wherever there was any thing to be learned: a Cromwell, a Marlborough, a Wolfe, &c. may be diſtinguiſhed; but the catalogue, if continued, would he too ſhort for ſo long a ſpace of time. Yet, I think, the Engliſh character contains as many of the materials as any other, for great gene⯑rals or great politicians, for I conſider theſe two characters as ſimilar, and indeed ne⯑ceſſary to be joined in thoſe leaders of mankind;—nous ſommes de l'étoffe dout on en fait. But perhaps an iſland cannot pro⯑duce [468] them in ſuch plenty as a great con⯑tinent: the want or demand for ſuch, is probably ſomewhat diminiſhed likewiſe by the ſecurity of your inſular ſituation; and by the nature of your government, which, like your iſland, may be left a good deal to itſelf, and like a good child, without doing itſelf any harm. This French government cares not much about her own ſubjects, and ſeems only anxious to govern the reſt of the world, and hence may pro⯑duce more of thoſe called politicians than you, as you are generally much en⯑groſſed by your internal affairs, and are ſeldom, I think, well verſed in foreign politics. Hence, likewiſe, probably pro⯑ceeds the misfortune of your not being al⯑ways good judges of thoſe military and political men you may have, and your not knowing how and where to employ them, according to their talents and characters. Many a Wolfe, and many a Marlborough, may have died in the lower ranks of our ſervice. We have not yet employed, nor made a proper uſe of, thoſe few officers [469] pointed out and recommended to us by General Wolfe and Prince Ferdinand ^*; they knew an officer by a kind of inſtinct. And as to politicians, you have not, I fear, judged much better. You have ſometimes fancied that great lawyers muſt be great politicians, which I fear is not often the caſe; and I ſhould not have very great hopes of the cabinet that was led or go⯑verned by them. I mean only to ſpeak generally, and of ſuch whoſe character is formed by the habits of their profeſſion, in which, I think, the nature and minutiae of the inveſtigation may produce a kind of microſcopic viſion, but does not tend to give the habits and velocity of mind, nor to form an eye of ſufficient field and ſcope for a great politician: but we have known good officers from that line, and there are, doubtleſs, among them men whoſe genius and abilities are upon the largeſt ſcale, and [470] who are beyond the vices and habits of their trade; and ſome who are impelled by nature into that path, from other walks of life: ſome of theſe are often the greateſt, the leading characters in moſt profeſſions; and we ſhall find, that almoſt every branch of knowledge is indebted to ſuch inter⯑lopers for its principal inventions and im⯑provements.

But I think it may fairly enough be doubt⯑ed, whether an Alexander, a Caeſar, a Tamerlane, a Mahomet, a Frederic, a great warrior and legiſlator, in one, could poſſibly be produced within the confines of a modern univerſity, and of an iſland: it pro⯑bably requires more room, and more great objects of employ, for ſuch minds to ex⯑pand, and to be gradually wrought up into the habits of thinking and doing great things. Admitting the vulgar idea of ſome men being born generals, poets, mechanics, &c. their formation is obviouſly progreſ⯑ſive. We know that the King of Pruſſia was not a general during his firſt campaign, nor ſcarcely an engineer at the laſt: and if [471] we knew as much of ancient heroes, we ſhould probably find the ſame progreſſion.

Though this French nation and ſociety may form a tolerable ſchool for ſome of our grown gentlemen and ladies, yet we certainly do not better ourſelves by ſending our children to be educated in their country. Nay, I am ſometimes quite angry and un⯑happy about this late pernicious prejudice of Engliſh parents, in favour of what they call a French education. The children commonly fall under the care of nuns and friars, who are generally the moſt ignorant and vulgar part of ſociety; people inferior to our own ſervants and workmen, with more ſuperſtition and leſs knowledge. It is only when parents, or ſome relation, can accompany the children, that it can be worth while, or ſhould be thought of. The great object, even of the moſt diligent and beſt informed in thoſe ſchool convents, is to convert the children to their own ſuper⯑ſtition. Their whole conduct in the buſi⯑neſs is ſecretly directed to that object, which, indeed, is one of the primary in⯑tentions [472] of moſt of the monaſtic orders, and of their ſchools; and ſaving of ſouls, by converting them to their faith, is, with them, a firſt-rate merit, and an indiſpen⯑ſable obligation.

I cannot help obſerving, en paſſant, that the Engliſh government would do more, by effectually excluding theſe monaſtic peo⯑ple from their dominions, and particularly from Ireland, than by all their laws againſt popery. And I believe, the firſt govern⯑ment in Europe who ſhall have reſolution to begin the diſſolution of thoſe now burdenſome and dangerous fraternities, may find it eaſier than commonly imagin⯑ed, and other nations will ſoon follow the example. They are now only popular among a few ignorant devotees, chiefly of the lower claſſes of people, and are much weakened ſince they loſt their potent le⯑gion, the Jeſuits, who were, to be ſure, the moſt powerful and dangerous, becauſe the moſt learned and uſeful. This abolition would be a popular meaſure, even in ſome Catholic countries, eſpecially if care was [473] taken not to give jealouſy to the reſt of the church; many of them would then probably ſecretly rejoice at the meaſure.

In aboliſhing theſe monaſtic orders, and their too numerous convents, perhaps a few of the moſt uſeful might be ſafely enough retained, eſpecially as every con⯑ſiderable change in ſociety ſhould be as gra⯑dual as poſſible. Humanity, and the world in general, would agree to the preſervation of that aſſiduous and benevolent ſiſterhood, who leave their cloiſters, and attend to the moſt painful duties in life, the care of the ſick.

Since religious wars and diſputes have ſubſided, in England you ſeem to have forgot the nature, the real ſtate and ſpirit of religion in Europe. It is not ſo much changed as you ſuppoſe; it is only that, being tired of the ſubject, you have ceaſed to talk of it; and it is no longer in faſhion: or you fancy that all are become, like yourſelves, more moderate, rational, to⯑lerant:—nothing like it: toleration is ſtill, [474] with all the bigotted Roman Catholics, who are yet numerous, a reprobate, here⯑tical, deteſted doctrine. The bloody in⯑quiſitorial ſpirit only pretends to ſleep, and lies ready watching, to be rouſed by the firſt occaſion that may give a fair proſpect of ſucceſs,—by any combination of deſign⯑ing and powerful hypocrites who may chuſe to make uſe of it. So that religious wars, which you fancy have ceaſed for ever, are, on the contrary, I think, juſt as probable as ever. The Proteſtants are only ſaved, like the Turks in Europe, and ſome other leſſer powers, by their real ſtrength, by a kind of balance or jealouſy of in⯑tereſts, and difficulties about dividing the ſpoils; but the conqueſt is ſteadily kept in view by the faithful, and particularly by the monaſtic or regular orders: and though we may laugh at their folly, I think it is not beyond a poſſibility, that a body ſo well united in opinions and ob⯑jects, may, by time and accidents, become ſufficiently united in intereſt, and may ac⯑cumulate power enough to deſtroy all li⯑berty of opinion, and reſtore univerſal [475] tyranny, ignorance, and barbariſm, once [...]ore. The two parties have lately kept each other in awe, but the turn of the [...]ale, and our ſafety, can be inſured only [...]y more wars, or by the diſſolution of moſt of theſe legions of embodied and [...]etermined enemies.

Something ſimilar to your ſituation may [...]e obſerved throughout Europe; the peo⯑ple in higher ranks, who do not mix enough with the lower, even governments and philoſophers, are not generally ac⯑quainted with the nature and condition of of the common people, and their ſuperſti⯑ [...]ion. We are apt to fancy a liberality and benevolence of ſentiment to extend and become general, from the example of our⯑ſelves, and a few gentlemen with whom only we converſe, and of a few authors who flatter and rock one another into thoſe temperate and philoſophic dreams: but the gentlemen and philoſophers are all together but a very ſmall part of mankind, diſperſed in ſmall and diſunited parties, unconnected with each other, and of little [476] influence in ſociety; and neither they, no [...] their dreams of improvement, are heede [...] or known by the lower claſſes, the bulk of mankind, who are kept at too great a diſtance from the upper, involved in their own manners and opinions. In this courſe of civilization, there muſt probably always ariſe, at leaſt, two different ſpecies or characters of religion,—a gentleman and a plebeian religion. From this ſituation of things, as the diſtance widens between the ranks, manners, and opinions, of men, I think the evil conſequences may increaſe. Hence proceeds not only a want of con⯑nection, but a growing hatred and animo⯑ſity, a kind of ſecret war, founded chiefly on ſuperſtition, between the extremes of ſo⯑ciety; and we ought to be thankful we do not oftener ſee the worſt effects of this diſpoſition break forth, from ſome acciden⯑tal ſparks of mutual offence. To remedy theſe evils, is now far from an eaſy taſk, ſince government has unwiſely given up the religious direction of the minds of men. In education and employment probably now conſiſt the moſt efficacious means of cure. [477] The nation that ſhall the firſt eſtabliſh a ſufficient number of proper day-ſchools for real and uſeful knowledge, diſcipline, and induſtry, among the people, will bid the faireſt for ſucceſs, and may by that means form the beſt ſubjects,—the moſt tolerant, the moſt powerful, and the leaſt dangerous, as a nearer reſemblance and connection would then take place between all the dif⯑ferent ranks in ſociety.

LETTER XXVII. National Emulation, and American War.

THAT conſtant emulation between the French and us, I think has lately been, and is likely to be, of more ſervice to them than to us, in ſome things. While our young travellers learn of them little elſe beſides their language, their faſhions and follies, they are imitating ſome of our uſeful arts, and may, in time, vie with us in ſome trades of importance. Beſides their attempts to imitate our wares a [...] Rouen, and other places; ſome coach⯑makers, and other trades, at Paris, are try⯑ing to work like ours. They have lately I think, taken from us our old politica [...] conduct, and are becoming (at leaſt th [...] pretended) protectors of freedom. Let us hope we may, in this too, learn ou [...] own again from them, and with more rea⯑lity, at ſecond hand.

[479]I travelled with a Spaniard and a French⯑man, both coming to England to examine our arts and manufactories, and both men of ſome practical and uſeful knowledge. One circumſtance among others, however, I obſerved, which might prevent their in⯑creaſing their ſtock of uſeful knowledge from ours, viz. a ſtrong prepoſſeſſion in favour of every thing French. I ſoon per⯑ceived they think that nation far before us in every thing. This prejudice in favour of France is becoming very general, I ſee, throughout Europe; which of the two is the firſt for induſtry, work, ingenuity, &c. have, for ſome time, been ſubjects of ra⯑ther general controverſy,—general, becauſe it is difficult to avoid taking a part between contending nations: but I think the Engliſh party diminiſhes daily: l'Europe devient encore plus Françoiſe. However, we know it will be long before ſuch governments as thoſe of France and Spain can attract men with capitals, or enable others to raiſe them by manufactories; and we know what dif⯑ficulties they had to encounter in the few they have attempted. Perhaps it would be wiſer for them to depend more, as yet, on [480] the produce of their lands, and for that purpoſe to begin by changing their tenures, taxes, and methods of farming, than at⯑tempt to force hands and capitals into new employments, while others remain neglect⯑ed that are of more national importance.

The Marquis de V—, who is a very ſen⯑ſible man, has told me, that he now con⯑ſiders our fall as certain and inevitable, from our want of wiſdom, and even of common ſenſe, about this reſiſtance in Ame⯑rica: firſt, in creating it, next, in not over⯑looking it, and in our oppoſing it at laſt with ſo little political and military ſkill: that he is ſorry for it, on account of what his country will loſe, by the want of that rivalſhip and emulation between us, the ſource of ſo much exertion, and of ſo much good to both nations; for he thinks we ſhall fall too low, and not retain ſufficient weight and importance to be their competi⯑tors in any thing. Muſt Carthage then fall? May not we hope that ſhe will yet ſur⯑vive this wholeſome check; and exiſt, and proſper, even without colonies, thoſe moſt expenſive of all cuſtomers? May they not, [481] in time, become better cuſtomers, without the charge of governing them, when both ſides ſhall recover temper enough to purſue their mutual intereſt? Beſides, I believe our rivals here are fully as far gone in the decline as we.

I grant that it is far better for both, and perhaps for all the nations, that France and England ſhould exiſt together, as ſeparate and nearly equal kingdoms, though we ſhould go on to hate, and make war on each other. Let us hope the other nations would not fit quiet and ſee the one deſtroy or ſubdue the other. Not that I think it impoſſible for a great majority of Europe to be wrong, or too ſupine, or blind to the general intereſt: witneſs their not forming a junction ſufficient to oppoſe the Mahome⯑dan inroads into Europe and Africa, and their permitting the diviſion of Poland.

This American diſpute of ours ſeems warmly to occupy the attention of the whole world, and in a manner which indicates the ſtrongeſt prejudices againſt us. They all [482] conſider America as already independent, and upon that ſuppoſition are forming various and intereſted ſpeculations. In caſe of univer⯑ſal tyranny in Europe, which may poſſibly again be the caſe, in time, by a partition of it among a few overgrown deſpots, and then perhaps ſoon again devoured by one; North America, it is thought, in that caſe, may ſerve as an aſylum for perſecuted liberty, which may, from thence, reverberate on its perſecutors. But that, as well as many other ſpeculations, are certainly very diſtant and doubtful, with a continent ſo lately, and as yet ſo thinly inhabited. Even if they ſhould become completely independent, there cannot probably be any ſettled govern⯑ment there for a long time to come; and in their various ſtruggles, there is no foreſee⯑ing yet ſo far into what may be the reſult. If they continue obliged to enter into our weak and corrupt ſyſtems of European politics, and to depend on our diviſions and alliances, their ſubjection, or mutual de⯑ſtruction, will probably be the conſequence; and yet without ſufficient connection with Europe, they muſt probably decline, or [483] thrive much ſlower. Peopled from thence, they muſt partake of its vices, in addition to their own plentiful ſtock. Some of the European manners and inſtitutions, which they have adopted, may not ſuit with their ſituation, and may help to prevent their progreſs and their union. Indeed the diffi⯑culties of reuniting ſuch a lengthened coun⯑try, and ſuch varying intereſts, may long be inſurmountable, eſpecially when the moſt powerful motives of union, the go⯑vernment, or enmity of a mother-country, ſhall be wanting: if they are not wiſe enough to make uſe of the preſent motive of union, a common enemy, while it laſts, and by means of the war, eſtabliſh a go⯑vernment ſufficiently powerful, general, and uniform; a peace may ſeparate ſuch ill-connected materials, and finally tear them to pieces.

But the worſt part, for us, of this war will be, not the pecuniary loſs and ex⯑pence, but the ill ſucceſs and diſgrace that will probably attend it; and hence our ſinking in the ſcale and in the opinion of Europe. The ideas you mention of divid⯑ing [484] our army to attack the country in dif⯑ferent quarters, that we may be beaten in detail, and eſpecially if thoſe armies leave their ports, or their depots, ſo far as to ſhut up or endanger the communication behind them, which we know to have always failed from Xenophon downwards: in ſhort, the whole original plan of ſubduing by force what is by that means rendered un⯑worthy the increaſed expence of keeping, are all ideas ſo thoroughly abſurd, ungenerous, tyrannical, or unmilitary, that they muſt entail diſgrace on thoſe who can adopt them. But it is not probable that all your army or navy can adopt them, or be hearty in the cauſe; nay, the contrary is ſuffici⯑ently notorious; and, indeed, nothing could ſave us from eternal diſgrace but its being pretty well known every where, except in England, that the majority and the beſt parts of the nation are againſt ſuch mea⯑ſures: if that majority does not ſoon pre⯑vail, your conſtitution, and your America, will be together loſt. Such are ſome of the wild ſpeculations that occur, among a va⯑riety of others which you may have already heard on this ſubject.

LETTER XXVIII. Memorandums of different Journeys.

IT is no eaſy matter to chuſe among my notes, and to judge of what is worth telling you; nor is it always eaſy to de⯑termine what can be told. In this great and complicated art of alphabetical writing, re [...]dered ſo eaſy and familiar by habit, we are not always aware of the limits of its powers. Your complaints of my brevity and obſcurity, in ſome things, may be well enough founded, and yet not to be entirely remedied: we cannot by this great art tranſ⯑m [...], perhaps, above half our ideas, and theſe in [...]ompletely. I muſt conclude by giving you ſtill ſome more of my brevities, from the memorandum book.

Among the notes of this, and ſome other jornies, I find, for example, the follow⯑ing. [486] On approaching Paris, my Pariſian companion was delighted, even with the ſmell of it, which I thought very of⯑fenſive.

Weighed my Engliſh pound avoidu⯑pois very exactly with Monſ. Briſſon, and found it 8538 French grains.

I find I diſlike this capital for ſev [...]ral things,—but all down the Seine is beauti⯑ful. Paris unfit for the poor, who are [...]ot ſufficiently conſidered by any rank of p [...] ⯑ple here, except by ſome of the clerg [...] among whom there is a great deal of me [...], but too much of that kind of charity whi [...]h promotes idleneſs. Is this ſuperſtitious a [...]d ceremonious religion a neceſſary ſuppl⯑ment to this kind of government? Has n [...]t the church contributed to make the ci [...]l government defective in order to crea [...]e work for herſelf?

The country from Paris to Orleans [...] likewiſe rather naked and triſte. Co [...], ſand, freeſtone, light ſoil, few trees [...] ⯑fences [487] till you come to the foreſt of Orleans, and even that conſiſts moſtly of ſmall trees and bruſh-wood. The town naſty, and infeſted with bugs. Some good houſes, one good ſtreet, and a fine bridge, with long, light, beautiful, elliptic arches. They are repairing their Gothic cathedral here; they began profeſſedly to preſerve it in the ſame old ſtyle, which is very good, but they cannot keep to their pattern; they are now changing the taſte and architecture. The French think they can improve every thing. Even the ſimple and beautiful Greek vaſes they often load with orna⯑ment.

From Orleans, down the Loire, we begin to ſee better cattle, agriculture, population, trees, houſes, villages, in ſhort, a rich and fine country: and Blois riſes nobly on the hills that overlook the river;—as does Chanteloup, farther down on the other ſide: Monſ. de Choiſeul has here been at great pains and expence to lay out and manage ſome lands à l' Angloiſe; but it will prove too expenſive for this country. The cha⯑teau [488] is too much in the French ſtyle for us: theſe manſard clumſy roofs offend my eye all through France.

Tours—in a fine well watered plain, ſurrounded by diſtant woody hills; the whole very rich and fine.

Marquis de Voyers, (D' Argenſon,) aux Olmes.—A good houſe in a bottom, with a high tower for view; how many finer ſitua⯑tions for a houſe among the ſurrounding hills? This great eſtate was probably bought with public money. I believe moſt of the miniſters, in this country, make fortunes. There is no Houſe of Commons in this nation to call for accounts. Here is a tole⯑rable breed of Engliſh race-horſes; but bad graſs lands, after much pains and expence, ſo that they muſt probably fall off.

Chatlera [...]d—inhabited almoſt entirely by ſmiths and cutlers. How eaſy to employ theſe four or five hundred workmen to much better purpoſe, and to produce at leaſt twice the work? but there is very lit⯑tle [489] public ſpirit in this country,—few capi⯑tals to be employed in manufactures, a want of machines, of ſkill, of exertion: it muſt be long before this nation can rival you as manufacturers: it might be better for you, I think, if they did, and were equally rich and induſtrious with your⯑ſelves; they would then be better cuſtomers than now: if nations were not oppreſſed and impeded by their fooliſh governments, each of them would probably produce and manufacture what was moſt natural and proper for their country and climate, and the one would ſupply what was wanted by the other, to the greateſt mutual benefit of all. May not we hope to ſee governments open their eyes on this ſubject? during this inveſtigating and enlightened age, as people come to read A. Smith's book: but govern⯑ments are generally led or adviſed by the little peddling people in trade, who ſee no⯑thing beyond their own little nonſenſical ſyſtems of monopoly, and are not probably the beſt politicians in the ſtate: indeed, it is yet hard to ſay where to find better: the beſt remedy would be, for miniſters to [490] travel and take great pains themſelves, and conſult moſt with thoſe who have done the ſame,—with thoſe who have lived, and have been employed in different countries. If, by chance, a miniſter reads and reaſons himſelf into a good ſyſtem, it is probable he knows not the chief part, the way to carry it into execution: a few general rules or principles are eaſily learned; in the ex⯑ceptions to thoſe rules, and in the practice, conſiſt the difficult leſſons. Theory and practice are no where ſufficiently acquainted. Power is generally too proud to be taught, and too ignorant to judge: it thinks it can do every thing, and amidſt other nonſenſe, vainly fancies it can trim and manage the balance of trade. If governments would let trade alone, it would probably balance itſelf much better than they can. If either nations, or individuals, have a mind to ex⯑pend beyond their income, I fear their go⯑vernments cannot then prevent them, if they have previouſly taken ſuch bad care of their education, as to let them once acquire thoſe vicious habits.

[491] Poitiers—on a fine ridge of hills, with ſome good houſes, but many ancient and mean: in the country, much miſery, and wooden ſhoes.

Angoulême—likewiſe on a noble com⯑manding ſituation,—a fine extenſive view over a well-cultivated country towards the ſea, rich in wines and brandies. Iron works and cannon founderies,—and a great waſte of wood and land from the want of coal. I ſhould like to examine the ſtrata of theſe countries, to ſome depth, with ſome of our naturaliſts. There are fine quarries of good ſtone, I think, all over France; and there are probably plenty of metallic ores in the central parts.

Bourdeaux — beaux, bucks. — Luxury with commerce. Is not this like joining parſimony and extravagance? Such are the inconſiſtencies of man: but mere expence does not always produce taſte or refine⯑ment: the luxury of commerce, I doubt, is often attended with ignorance and bad taſte: however, you will find Monſ. and [492] Mad. Louis here much worth knowing: he is building them a very fine theatre, and means to publiſh a particular detail of the work: in great works this ſhould never be neglected. Monſ. L— thinks he has performed ſome things rather new in the cutting, &c.

This Garonne is a fine river, and the means of a great trade. Seventy thouſand ton of wine, at leaſt, annually exported; and the conſumption of the place and its environs, equal one hundred thouſand, viz. fifty thouſand, computed from the duties raiſed on it, and as much, it is thought, eſcapes by fraud: a great Weſt India trade alſo;—they ſay, equal to fifty million livres yearly. We learn, that the French part only of Hiſpaniola produces as much as all our Weſt India iſlands together, and not by capitals from home, but by thoſe gradu⯑ally raiſed there.

Theſe magiſtrates of Bourdeaux propoſe to try a tax upon ſalt, for experiment, meaning to diſcontinue it if found incon⯑venient, [493] or not to anſwer: they muſt be ſimpletons if they believe it will ever again be diſcontinued. Here is Voltaire's Aca⯑demie des moutons rouges; a nickname it may probably retain (ſee Candide).

Such are not the places where ſcience chuſes to dwell: ſhe is rarely found to be very nearly allied to commerce, or the love of money; only in England, I think there are ſome hopes of her becoming more near⯑ly allied to trade, as your education muſt ſurely, in time, be extended and improved, as its importance muſt become evident to a rich and improving nation. Under ſuch governments as this, even riches produce but little public ſpirit: indeed, the public, in theſe days, is nowhere conſidered as it ought to be; and here it is hardly con⯑ſidered at all. We have juſt heard the opinion of ſome great lawyers and magi⯑ſtrates againſt the public, in the diſpoſal of ſome litigated public money, which ſhews how little they conſider the public good: to ſettle the diſpute, the money has been given to a convent: falſe and inadequate [494] ideas of juſtice, and of its importance, given to the people, are not the leaſt of the evils attending a bad government.

About Bourdeaux, I think, are the beſt farmers we had yet ſeen in France, eſpecial⯑ly of their vineyards, which are well mana⯑ged, as are all the other parts of this wine buſineſs: it ſeems natural to this country, forming at once a flouriſhing agriculture, a manufactory, population, and riches. Who⯑ever wiſhes to underſtand all the wine buſi⯑neſs, and its cultivation, ſhould come to this country: it is wonderful the Spaniards do not come here to learn thoſe branches, which might be made of ſuch conſequence to them.

Government, vainly fearing that too much land may be turned to wine, attempt to make the farmers turn more to corn; better let them alone, for they are the beſt judges in theſe matters: but power is very apt to be over-wiſe. This wine farming is to be ſure a kind of lottery, which tempts with great prizes, and is ſubject to ſtill greater loſſes, [495] like mining, or like our hop-farming: but ſtill the beſt way, I believe, is to let the farmers alone, they will beſt diſcover and purſue their own intereſt: but, alas! how few governments know how to do this, and let their ſubjects alone? No one coun⯑try can produce every thing; the attempt would not tend to improve, but to impede or force nature, who wiſely ſeems to intend that men and nations ſhould want, ſhould ſupply and aſſiſt each other. An entire inde⯑pendence on others, would be an impracti⯑cable cynical ſoleciſm in human policy: it would ſtop the ſources of proſperity, by diminiſhing the motives to induſtry, and occaſion a gradual decline: a ſyſtem nearly adopted by Spain, and afterwards too much imitated by other nations.

Such, in this laſt letter you are to expect from France, are the remarks which I have collected from my notes; thoſe, with various names, numbers, and abbreviations, help me to recal numerous other connected ideas and occurrences, which would neither be eaſy to communicate, nor perhaps worth it, to any [496] other perſon: and it can hardly be worth writing much about thoſe parts that we only run through. Uſeful knowledge and re⯑flections require time and attention, and can only be produced by a reſidence.

But ſome of theſe epiſtles may furniſh you with leading hints and marks to ſteer by, as well as longer and more laboured accounts: the moſt explicit ought not to ſave you any neceſſary labour, nor could they, perhaps, lead you more directly to your object, which is the point of import⯑ance. Could we learn to eſtimate things according to their real value, and be content with what is really uſeful; what time might be ſaved! and how much farther might we go! You may, I hope, find leiſure to en⯑quire farther into particulars, into the real ſtate and cauſes of many more things in this country; and ſtudy their laws, hiſtory, government, arts, manners, &c. on the ſpot: but do it with judgment and ſelection, and to ſave time,—bornez vous à l'utile & à l'applicable.