African Slavery in America
*Pennsylvania Journal*, March 8, 1775.

by Thomas Paine
(1775)

From The Works of Thomas Paine (Conway Edition, 1894-96), Volume 1.
Source: https://filthylittleatheist.com/works/african-slavery-in-america/
Public domain. CC0 / Public Domain Mark 1.0.

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That some desperate wretches should be willing to steal and enslave men by violence and murder for gain, is rather lamentable than strange. But that many civilized, nay, christianized people should approve, and be concerned in the savage practice, is surprising ; and still persist, though it has been so often proved contrary to the light of nature, to every principle of Justice and Humanity, and even good policy, by a succession of eminent men,* and several late publications.

Our Traders in MEN {an unnatural commodity!') must know the wickedness of that Slave-Trade, if they attend to reasoning, or the dictates of their own hearts ; and such as shun and stiffle all these, wilfully sacrifice Conscience, and the character of integrity to that golden Idol. 
The Managers of that Trade themselves and others, testify, that many of these African nations inhabit fertile
countries, are industrious farmers, enjoy plenty, and lived quietly, averse to war, before the Europeans debauched them with liquors, and bribing them against one another ; and that these inoffensive people are brought into slavery, by stealing them, tempting Kings to sell subjects, which they can have no right to do, and hiring one tribe to war against another, in order to catch prisoners. By such wicked and inhuman ways the English are said to enslave towards one hundred thousand yearly ; of which thirty thousand are supposed to die by barbarous treatment in the first year ; besides all that are slain in the unnatural wars excited to take them. So much innocent blood have the Managers and Supporters of this inhuman Trade to answer for to the common Lord of all !

Many of these were not prisoners of war, and redeemed from savage conquerors, as some plead ; and they who were such prisoners, the English, who promote the war for that very end, are the guilty authors of their being so ; and if they were redeemed, as is alleged, they would owe nothing to the redeemer but what he paid for them.

They show as little Reason as Conscience who put the matter by with saying — " Men, in some cases, are lawfully made Slaves, and why may not these?" So men, in some cases, are lawfully put to death, deprived of their goods, without their consent ; may any man, therefore, be treated so, without any conviction of desert ? Nor is this plea mended by adding — " They are set forth to us as slaves, and we buy them without farther inquiry, let the sellers see to it." Such men may as well join with a known band of robbers, buy their ill-got goods, and help on the trade ; ignorance is no more pleadable in one case than the other; the sellers plainly own how they obtain them. But none can lawfully buy without evidence that they are not concurring with Men-Stealers ; and as the true owner has a right to reclaim his goods that were stolen, and sold ; so the slave, who is proper owner of his freedom, has a right to reclaim it, however often sold.

Most shocking of all is alledging, the Sacred Scriptures to

1. The example of the Jews, in many things, may not be imitated by us ; they had not only orders to cut off several nations altogether, but if they were obliged to war with others, and conquered them, to cut off every male; they were suffered to use polygamy and divorces, and other things utterly unlawful to us under clearer light.

2. The plea is, in a great measure, false ; they had no permission to catch and enslave people who never injured them.

3. Such arguments ill become us, since the time of reforma.- tion came, under Gospel light. All distinctions of nations, and privileges of one above others, are ceased ; Christians are taught to account all men their neighbours ; and love their neighbours as themselves ; and do to all men as they would be done by ; to do good to all men ; and Man-stealing is ranked with enormous crimes. Is the barbarous enslaving our inoffensive neighbours, and treating them like wild beasts subdued by force, reconcilable with all these Divine precepts f Is this doing to them as we would desire they should do to us ? If they could carry off and enslave some thousands of us, would we think it just? — One would almost wish they could for once ; it might convince more than Reason, or the Bible.

As much in vain, perhaps, will they search ancient history for examples of the modern Slave-Trade. Too many nations enslaved the prisoners they took in war. But to go to nations with whom there is no war, who have no way provoked, without farther design of conquest, purely to catch inoffensive people, like wild beasts, for slaves, is an hight of outrage against Humanity and Justice, that seeliis left by Heathen nations to be practised by pretended Christians. How shameful are all attempts to colour and excuse it !

As these people are not convicted of forfeiting freedom, they have still a natural, perfect right to it ; and the Governments whenever they come should, in justice set them free, and punish those who hold them in slavery.

So monstrous is the making and keeping them slaves at all, abstracted from the barbarous usage they sufier, and the many evils attending the practice ; as selling husbands away from wives, children from parents, and from each other, in violation of sacred and natural ties ; and opening the way for adulteries, incests, and many shocking consequences, for all of which the guilty Masters must answer to the final Judge.

If the slavery of the parents be unjust, much more is their children's; if the parents were justly slaves, yet the children are born free ; this is the natural, perfect right of all mankind ; they are nothing but a just recompense to those who bring them up : And as much less is commonly spent on them than others, they have a right, in justice, to be proportionably sooner free.

Certainly one may, with as much reason and decency,, plead for murder, robbery, lewdness, and barbarity, as for this practice : They are not more contrary to the natural dictates of Conscience, and feelings of Humanity ; nay, they are all comprehended in it.

But the chief design of this paper is not to disprove it, which many have sufficiently done ; but to entreat Americans to consider.

: I. With what consistency, or decency they complain so loudly of attempts to enslave them, while they hold so many hundred thousands in slavery ; and annually enslave many thousands more, without any pretence of authority, or claim upon them ? j^

T2. How just, how suitable to our crime is the punishment with which Providence threatens us? We have enslaved multitudes, and shed much innocent blood in doing it ; and

3. Whether, then, all ought not immediately to discon- , tinue and renounce it, with grief and abhorrence ? Should ' not every society bear testimony against it, and account' obstinate persisters in it bad men, enemies to their country, and exclude them from fellowship; as they often do for much lesser faults ?

4. The great Question may be — What should be done with those who are enslaved already ? To turn the old and infirm free, would be injustice and cruelty ; they who enjoyed the labours of their better days should keep, and treat them humanely. As to the rest, let prudent men, with the assistance of legislatures, determine what is practicable for masters, and best for them. Perhaps some could give them lands upon reasonable rent, some, employing them in their labour still, might give them some reasonable allowances for it ; so as all may have some property, and fruits of their labours at their own disposal, and be encouraged to industry ; the family may live together, and enjoy the natural satisfaction of exercising relative affections and duties, with civil protection, and other advantages, like fellow men. Perhaps they might sometime form useful barrier settlements on the frontiers. Thus they may become interested in the pubHc welfare, and assist in promoting it ; instead of being dangerous, as now they are, should any enemy promise them a better condition.

5. The past treatment of Africans must naturally fill them with abhorrence of Christians ; lead them to think our religion would make them more inhuman savages, if they embraced it ; thus the gain of that trade has been pursued in opposition to the Redeemer's cause, and the happiness of men : Are we not, therefore, bound in duty to him and to them to repair these injuries, as far as possible, by taking some proper measures to instruct, not only the slaves here but the Africans in their own countries ? Primitive Chrisi77S]

African Slavery in America tians laboured always to spread their Divine Religion ; and this is equally our duty while there is an Heathen nation : But what singular obligations are we under to these injured people !

These are the sentiments of

Justice and Humanity.

II. A Dialogue Between General Wolfe and General Gage in a Wood Near Boston.'

Gen. Wolfe. Welcome my old friend to this retreat.

Gen. Gage. I am glad to see you my dear Mr. Wolfe, but what has brought you back again to this world ?

Gen. Wolfe. I am sent by a group of British heroes to remonstrate with you upon your errand to this place. You are come upon a business unworthy a British soldier, and a freeman. You have come here to deprive your fellow subjects of their liberty.

Gen. Gage. God forbid ! I am come here to execute the orders of my Sovereign, — a Prince of unbounded wisdom and goodness, and who aims at no higher honor than that of being the King of a free people.

Gen. Wolfe. Strange language from a British soldier ! I honour the crown of Great-Britain as an essential part of her excellent constitution. I served a Sovereign to whom the impartial voice of posterity has ascribed the justice of the man as well as the magnanimity o'^ a King, and yet such was the free spirit of the troops under my command, that I could never animate them with a proper martial spirit without setting before them the glorious objects, of their King and their Country.

Gen. Gage. The orders of my Sovereign have been sanctified by the Parliament of Great-Britain. All the wisdom and liberty of the whole empire are collected in that august Assembly. My troops therefore cannot want the same glorious motives which animated yours, in the present ex-

' From the Pennsylvania Journal, January 4, 1775,

pedition. They will fight for their country as well as their King.

Gen. Wolfe. The wisest assemblies of men are as liable as individuals, to corruption and error. The greatest ravages which have ever been committed upon the liberty and happiness of mankind have been by weak and corrupted republics. The American colonies are entitled to all the privileges of British subjects. Equality of Hberty is the glory of every Briton. He does not forfeit it by crossing the Ocean. He carries it with him into the most distant parts of the world, because he carries with him the immutable laws of nature. A Briton or an American ceases to be a British subject when he ceases to be governed by rulers chosen or approved of by himself. This is the essence of liberty and of the British constitution.

Gen. Gage. The inhabitants of the province of Massachusetts Bay, have not only thrown off the jurisdiction of the British Parliament, but they are disaffected to the British crown. They cannot even bear with that small share of regal power and grandeur which have been delegated to the Governors of this province. They traduced Sir Francis Bernard, and petitioned the King to remove Mr. Hutchinson from the seat of government. But their opposition to my administration has arisen to open rebellion. They have refused to obey my proclamations. They have assembled and entered into associations to eat no mutton and to wear clothes manufactured in this country, — they have even provided themselves with arms and ammunition, and have acquired a complete knowledge of the military exercises, in direct opposition to my proclamations.

Gen. Wolfe. The inhabitants of Massachusetts Bay were once a brave and loyal people. If they are disaffected to his present Majesty, it is because his Ministers have sent counterfeit impressions of his royal virtues to govern them. Bernard and Hutchinson must have been a composition of all the base and wicked qualities in human nature to have diminished the loyalty of those illustrious subjects, or weakened their devotion to every part of the British constitution.

—I must add here that the late proceedings of the British Parliament towards the American colonists have reached the British heroes in Elysium, and have produced a suspension of their happiness. The Quebec Bill in a particular manner has roused their resentment. It was once the glory of EngHshmen to draw the sword only in defence of Hberty and the protestant religion, or to extend the blessings of both to their unhappy neighbours. These godlike motives reconciled me to all the hardships of that campaign which ended in the reduction of Canada. These godlike motives likewise reconciled me to the horror I felt in being obliged to shed the blood of those brave Frenchmen, who opposed me on the plains of Abraham. I rejoiced less in the hour of my death, in the honor of my victory, than in the glory of having communicated to an inslaved people the glorious privileges of an English constitution. While my fellow soldiers hailed me as their conqueror, I exulted only in being their Deliverer. But popery and French laws in Canada are but a part of that system of despotism, which has been prepared for the colonies. The edicts of the British Parliament (for they want the sanction of British laws) which relate to the province of Massachusetts Bay are big with destruction to the whole British empire. I come therefore in the name of Blakeney — Cumberland — Granby — and an illustrious band of English heroes to whom the glory of Old England is still dear, to beg you to have no hand in the execution of them. Remember Sir you are a man as well as a soldier. You did not give up your privileges as a citizen when you put on your sword. British soldiers are not machines, to be animated only with the voice of a Minister of State. They disdain those ideas of submission which preclude them from the liberty of thinking for themselves, and degrade them to an equality with a war horse, or an elephant. If you value the sweets of peace and liberty, — if you have any regard to the glory of the British name, and if you prefer the society of Grecian, Roman, and British heroes in the world of spirits, to the company of Jeffries, Kirk, and other royal executioners, I conjure you imme- diately to resign your commission. Assign the above reasons to your Sovereign for your conduct, and you will have 'Ca.e.sole glory of performing an action which would do honour to an angel. You will restore perpetual harmony between Britain and her colonies.

Iii

THE MAGAZINE IN AMERICA

In a country whose reigning character is the love of science, it is somewhat strange that the channels of communication should continue so narrow and limited. The weekly papers are at present the only vehicles of public information. Convenience and necessity prove that the opportunities of acquiring and communicating knowledge ought always to inlarge with the circle of population. America has now outgrown the state of infancy: her strength and commerce make large advances to manhood ; and science in all its branches has not only blossomed, but even ripened on the soil. The cottages as it were of yesterday have grown to villages, and the villages to cities ; and while proud antiquity, like a skeleton in rags, parades the streets of other nations, their genius, as if sickened and disgusted with the phantom, comes hither for recovery.

The present enlarged and improved state of things gives
every encouragement which the editor of a New Magazine can reasonably hope for. The failure of former ones cannot be drawn as a parallel now. Change of times adds propriety to new measures. In the early days of colonization, when a whisper was almost sufificient to have negotiated all our internal concerns, the publishing even of a newspaper would have been premature. Those times are past ; and population has established both their use and their credit. But their plan being almost wholly devoted to news and commerce, affords but a scanty residence to the Muses. Their path lies wide of the field of science, and has left a rich and unexplored region for new adventurers.

It has always been the opinion of the learned and curious, that a magazine, when properly conducted, is the nursery of , genius ; and by constantly accumulating new matter, becomes a kind of market for wit and utility. The opportunities which it affords to men of abilities to communicate their studies, kindle up a spirit of invention and emulation. An unexercised genius soon contracts a kind of mossiness, which not only checks its growth, but abates its natural vigour. Like an untenanted house it falls into decay, and frequently ruins the possessor.

The British magazines, at their commencement, were the i repositories of ingenuity : They are now the retailers of tale and nonsense. From elegance they sunk to simplicity, from simplicity to folly, and from folly to voluptuousness. The Gentleman's, the London, and the Universal, Magazines, bear yet some marks of their originality ; but the Town and Country, the Covent-Garden, and the Westminster, are no better than incentives to profligacy and dissipation. They have added to the dissolution of manners, and supported Venus against the Muses.

curable consumption. There is a happy something in the climate of America, which disarms them of all their power both of infection and attraction.

But while we give no encouragement to the importation of foreign vices, we ought to be equally as careful not to create any. A vice begotten might be worse than a vice imported. The latter, depending on favour, would be a sycophant ; the other, by pride of birth, would be a tyrant : To the one we should be dupes, to the other slaves. / There is nothing which obtains so general an influence over the manners and morals of a people as the Press ; from that, as from a fountain, the streams of vice or virtue are poured forth over a country : And of all publications, none are more calculated to improve or infect than a periodical one. All others have their rise and their exit ; but this renews the pursuit. If it has an evil tendency, it debauches by the power of repetition ; if a good one, it obtains favor by the gracefulness of soliciting it. Like a lover, it woos its mistress with unabated asdor, nor gives up the pursuit without a conquest.

The two capital supports of a magazine are Utility and Entertainment : The first is a boundless path, the other an endless spring. To suppose that arts and sciences are exhausted subjects, is doing them a kind of dishonour. The divine mechanism of creation reproves such folly, and shews us by comparison, the imperfection of our most refined inventions. I cannot believe that this species of vanity is peculiar to the present age only. I have no doubt but that it existed before the flood, and even in the wildest ages of antiquity. 'Tis folly we have inherited, not created ; and the discoveries which every day produces, have greatly contributed to dispossess us of it. Improvement and the world will expire together : And till that period arrives, we may plunder the mine, but can never exhaust it ! That " We have found out every thing" has been the motto of every age. Let our ideas travel a little into antiquity, and we shall find larger portions of it than now ; and so unwilling were our ancestors to descend from this mountain of perfection,

17 7S] I'HE MAGAZINE IN AMERICA. 17

that when any new discovery exceeded the common standard, the discoverer was believed to be in alliance with the devil. It was not the ignorance of the age only, but the vanity of it, which rendered it dangerous to be ingenious. The man who first planned and erected a tenable hut, with a hole for the smoke to pass, and the light to enter, was perhaps called an able architect, but he who first improved it with a chimney, could be no less than a prodigy ; yet had the same man been so unfortunate as to have embellished it with glass windows, he might probably have been burnt for a magician. Our fancies would be highly diverted could we look back, and behold a circle of original Indians harranguing on the sublime perfection of the age : Yet 'tis not impossible but future times may exceed us almost as much as we have exceeded them.

I would wish to extirpate the least remains of this impolitic vanity. It has a direct tendency to unbrace the nerves of invention, and is peculiarly hurtful to young colonies. A magazine can never want matter in America, if the inhabitants will do justice to their own abilities. Agriculture and manufactujres owe much of their improvement in England, to hints first thrown out in some of their magazines. Gentlemen whose abilities enabled them to make experiments, frequently chose that method of communication, on account of its convenience. And why should not the same spirit operate in America ? I have no doubt of seeing, in a little time, an American magazine full of more useful matter than I ever saw an English one : Because we are not exceeded in abilities, have a more extensive field for enquiry ; and, whatever may be our political state. Our happiness will always depend upon ourselves.

venience which a magazine affords of collecting and conveying them to the public, enhances their utility. Where this opportunity is wanting, many little inventions, the forerunners of improvement, are suffered to expire on the spot that produced them ; and, as an elegant writer beautifully •expresses on another occasion,

"They waste their sweetness on the desert air." — Gray.

In matters of humour and entertainment there can be no reason to apprehend a deficiency. Wit is naturally a volunteer, delights in action, and under proper discipline is capable of great execution. 'Tis a perfect master in the art of bush-fighting ; and though it attacks with more subtility than science, has often defeated a whole regiment of heavy artillery. — Though I have rather exceeded the line of gravity in this description of wit, I am unwilling to dismiss it without being a little more serious. — 'Tis a qualification which, like the passions, has a natural wildness that requires governing. Left to itself, it soon overflows its banks, mixes with common filth, and brings disrepute on the fountain. We have many valuable springs of it in America, which at present run purer streams, than the generality of it in other countries. In France and Italy, 'tis froth highly fomented : In England it has much of the same spirit, but rather a browner comry plexion. European wit is one of the worst articles we can import. It has an intoxicating power with it, which debauches the very vitals of chastity, and gives a false colouring to every thing it censures or defends. We soon grow fatigued with the excess, and withdraw like gluttons sickened with intemperance. On the contrary, how happily are the sallies of innocent humour calculated to amuse and sweeten the vacancy of business ! We enjoy the harmless luxury without surfeiting, and strengthen the spirits by relaxing them.

The Press has not only a great influence over our manners and morals, but contributes largely to our pleasures ; and a magazine when properly enriched, is very conveniently calculated for this purpose. Voluminous works weary the patience, but here we are invited by conciseness and variety. As I have formerly received much pleasure from perusing these kind of publications, I wish the present success ; and have no doubt of seeing a proper diversity blended so agreeably together, as to furnish out an Olio worthy of the company for whom it is designed.

I consider a magazine as a kind of bee-hive, which both allures the swarm, and provides room to store their sweets. Its division into cells, gives every bee a province of its own ; and though they all produce honey, yet perhaps they differ in their taste for flowers, and extract with greater dexterity from one than from another. Thus, we are not all PHI-LOSOPHERS, all Artists, nor all Poets.

IV. Useful and Entertaining Hints.'

" The real value of a thing, Is as much money as 'twill bring."

In the possession of the Philadelphia Library Companyis a cabinet of fossils,* with several specimens of earth, clay, sand, etc., with some account of each, and where brought from.

I have always considered these kinds of researches as productive of many advantages, and in a new country they are particularly so. As subjects for speculation, they afford entertainment to the curious ; but as objects of utility they merit a closer attention. The same materials which delight the Fossilist, enrich the manufacturer and the merchant. While the one is scientifically examining their structure and composition, the others, by industry and commerce, are transmuting them to gold. Possessed of the power of pleasing, they gratify on both sides ; the one contemplates their natural hea.uties in the cabinet, the others, their re-created ones in the coffer.

'Tis by the researches of the virtuoso that the hidden parts of the earth are brought to light, and from his discoveries of its qualities, the potter, the glassmaker, and numerous other artists, are enabled to furnish us with their
productions. Artists considered merely as such, would have made but a slender progress, had they not been led on by the enterprising spirit of the curious. I am unwilling to dismiss this remark without entering my protest against that unkind, ungrateful, and impolitic custom of ridicuHng unsuccessful experiments. And of informing those unwise or overwise pasquinaders, that half the felicities they enjoy sprung originally from generous curiosity.

Were a man to propose or set out to bore his lands as a carpenter does a board, he might probably bring on himself a shower of witticisms ; and tho' he could not be jested at for building castles in the air, yet many magnanimous laughs might break forth at his expence, and vociferously predict the explosion of a mine in his subterraneous pursuits. I am led to this reflection by the present domestic state of America, because it will unavoidably happen, that before we can arrive at that perfection of things which other nations have acquired, many hopes will fail, many whimsical attempts will become fortunate, and many reasonable ones end in air and expence. The degree of improvement which America has already arrived at is unparalleled and astonishing, but 'tis miniature to what she will one day boast of, if heaven continue her happiness. We have nearly one whole region yet unexplored : I mean the internal rfegion of the earth. By industry and tillage we have acquired a considerable knowledge of what America will produce, but very little of what it contains. The bowels of the earth have been only slightly inquired into : We seem to content ourselves with such parts of it as are absolutely necessary, and cannot well be imported ; as brick, stone, etc., but have gone very little further, except in the article of iron. The glass and the pottery manufactures are yet very imperfect, and will continue so, till some curious researcher finds out the proper material.

Copper, Lead, ' and Tin articles valuable both in their simple state, and as being the component parts of other metals (viz. brass and pewter) are at present but little known
22 TBE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [i77S throughout the continent in their mineral form : yet I doubt not, but very valuable mines of them, are daily travelled over in the western parts of America. Perhaps a few feet of surface conceal a treasure sufificient to enrich a kingdom.

The value of the interior part of the earth (like ourselves) cannot be judged certainly of by the surface, neither do the corresponding strata He with the unvariable order of the colours of the rainbow, and if they ever did (which I do not believe) age and misfortune have now broken in upon their union; earthquakes, deluges, and volcanoes have so disunited and re-united them, that in their present state they appear like a world in ruins. — Yet the ruins are beautiful. — The caverns, museums of antiquities.

Tho' nature is gay, pohte, and generous abroad, she is sullen, rude, and niggardly at home : Return the visit, and she admits you with all the suspicion of a miser, and all the reluctance of an antiquated beauty retired to replenish her charms. Bred up in antediluvian notions, she has not yet acquired the European taste of receiving visitants in her dressing-room : she locks and bolts up her private recesses with extraordinary care, as if not only resolved to preserve her hoards, but to conceal her age, and hide the remains of a face that was young and lovely in the days of Adam. He that would view nature in her undress, and partake of her internal treasures, must proceed with the resolution of a robber, if not a ravisher. She gives no invitation to follow her to the cavern. — The external earth makes no proclamation of the interior stores, but leaves to chance and industry, the discovery of the whole. In such gifts as nature can annually re-create, she is noble and profuse, and entertains the whole world with the interest of her fortunes ; but watches over the capital with the care of a miser. Her gold and jewels lie concealed in the earth, in caves of utter darkness ; and hoards of wealth, heaps upon heaps, mould in the chests, like the riches of a Necromancer's cell. It must be very pleasant to an adventurous speculist to make excursions into these Gothic regions ; and in his travels he may possibly come to a cabinet locked up in some rocky vault, whose treasures shall reward his toil, and enable him to shine on his return, as splendidly as nature herself.

By a small degree of attention to the order and origin of things, we shall perceive, that though the surface of the earth produce us the necessaries of life, yet 'tis from the mine we extract the conveniences thereof. Our houses would diminish to wigwams, furnished in the Indian style, and ourselves resemble the building, were it not for the ores of the earth. Agriculture and manufactures would wither away for want of tools and implements, and commerce stand still for want of materials. The beasts of the field would elude our power, and the birds of the air get beyond our reach. Our dominion would shrink to a narrow circle, and the mind itself, partaking of the change, would contract its prospects, and lessen into almost animal instinct. Take away but the single article of iron, and half the felicities of life fall with it. Little as we may prize this common ore, the loss of it would cut deeper than the use of it : And by the way of laughing off misfortunes 'tis easy to prove, by this method of investigation, that an iron age is better than a golden one.

Since so great a portion of our enjoyments is drawn from the mine, it is certainly an evidence of our prudence to inquire and know what our possessions are. Every man's landed property extends to the [centre] ' of the earth. Why then should he sit down contented with a part, and practise upon his estate those fashionable follies in Hfe, which prefer the superfice to the solid ? Curiosity alone, should the thought occur conveniently, would move an active mind to examine (tho' not to the bottom) at least to a considerable depth.

The propriety and reasonableness of these internal enquiries are continually pointed out to us by numberless occurrences. Accident is almost every day turning out some new secret from the earth. How often has the plow-share or the spade broken open a treasure, which for ages, perhaps for ever, had lain just beneath the surface ? And tho' every estate have not mines of gold or silver, yet they may contain ' " Surface " in the original, but surely a clerical error. — Editor.

some strata of valuable earth, proper for manufactures ; and if they have not those, there is a great probability of their having chalk, marl, or some rich soil proper for manure, which only requires to be removed to the surface.

I have been informed of some land in England being raised to four times its former value by the discovery of a chalk or marl pit, in digging a hole to fix a post in ; and in embanking a meadow in the Jerseys, the laborers threw out with the soil, a fine blue powderly earth, resembling indigo, which, when mixed with oil, was used for paint. I imagine the vein is now exhausted. '

Many valuable ores, clays, etc. appear in such rude forms in their natural state, as not even to excite curiosity, much less attention. A true knowledge of their different value can only be obtained by experiment : As soil proper for manure, they may be judged of by the planter ; but as matter, they come under the enquiry of the philosopher. This leads me to reflect with inexpressible pleasure, on the numberless benefits arising to a community, by the institution of societies for promoting useful knowledge.

The American Philosophical Society, like the Royal Society in England, by having public spirit for its support, and public good for its object, is a treasure we ought to glory in. Here the defective knowledge of the individual is supplied by the common stock. Societies without endangering private fortunes, are enabled to proceed in their enquiries by analysis and experiment : But individuals are seldom furnished with conveniences for so doing, and generally rest their opinion on reasonable conjecture.

I presume that were samples of different soils from different parts of America, presented to the society for their inspection and examination, it would greatly facilitate our knowledge of the internal earth, and give a new spring both to agriculture and manufactures.

These hints are not intended to lament any loss of time, or remissness in the pursuit of useful knowledge, but to
i77S]

Useful and Entertaining Hints furnish matter for future studies ; that while we glory in what we are, we may not neglect what we are to be.

Of the present state we may justly say, that no nation under heaven ever struck out in so short a time, and with so much spirit and reputation, into the labyrinth of art and science ; and that, not in the acquisition of knowledge only, but in the happy advantages flowing from it. The world does not at this day exhibit a parallel, neither can history produce its equal.

Atlanticus.

Philadelphia, Feb. 10.

V. New Anecdotes of Alexander the Great."

In one of those calm and gloomy days, which have a strange effect in disposing the mind to pensiveness, I quitted the busy town and withdrew into the country. As I passed towards the Schuylkill, my ideas enlarged with the prospect, and sprung from place to place with an agility for which nature had not a simile. Even the eye is a loiterer, when compared with the rapidity of the thoughts. Before I could reach the ferry, I had made the tour of the creation, and paid a regular visit to almost every country under the sun ; and whiles I was crossing the river, I passed the Styx, and made large excursions into the shadowy regions ; but my ideas relanded with my person, and taking a new flight inspected the state of things unborn. This happy wildness of imagination makes a man a lord of the world, and discovers to him the value and the vanity of all it possesses.

Having discharged the two terrestrial Charons, who ferried me over the Schuylkill, I took up my stafT and walked into the woods. Every thing conspired to hush me into a pleasing kind of melancholy — the trees seemed to sleep — and the air hung round me with such unbreathing silence, as if listening to my very thoughts. Perfectly at rest from care or business, I suffered my ideas to pursue their own unfettered fancies ; and in less time than what is required to express it in, they had again passed the Styx and toured many miles into the new country.

' From the Pennsylvania Magazine, February, 1775. 26

I77SJ ANECDOTES OF ALEXANDER THE GREAT. 27

As the servants of great men always imitate their masters abroad, so my ideas, habiting themselves in my likeness, figured away with all the consequence of the person they belonged to ; and calling themselves when united, I and Me, wherever they went, brought me on their return the following anecdotes of Alexander, viz.

queror of the world cut in the stable, I directed my flight thither ; he was just returned with the rest of the horses from the journey, and the groom was rubbing him down with a large furz bush, but turning himself round to get a still larger and more prickly one that was newly brought in, Alexander catched the opportunity, and instantly disappeared, on which I quitted the place, lest I should be suspected of stealing him : when I had reached the bands of the river, and was preparing to take my flight over, I perceived that I had picked up a bug among the Plutonian gentry, and thinking it was needless to increase the breed on this side the water, was going to dispatch it, when the little wretch screamed out. Spare Alexander the Great. On which I withdrew the violence I was offering to his person, and holding up the emperor between my finger and thumb, he exhibited a most contemptible figure of the downfall of tyrant greatness. Affected with a mixture of concern and compassion {which he was always a stranger to) I suffered him to nibble on a pimple that was newly risen on my hand, in order to refresh him ; after which I placed him on a tree to hide him, but a Tom Tit coming by, chopped him up with as little ceremony as he put whole kingdoms to the sword. On which I took my flight, reflecting with pleasure, — That I was not ALEX-ANDER THE Great.

Esop.

VI. Reflections on the Life and Death of Lord Clive.-

Ah ! The tale is told — The scene is ended — and the curtain falls. As an emblem of the vanity of all earthly pomp, let his Monument be a globe, but be that globe a bubble ; let his Efifigy be a man walking round it in his sleep ; and let Fame, in the character of a shadow, inscribe his honours on the air.

I view him but as yesterday on the burning plains of Plassey,* doubtful of life, health, or victory. I see him in the instant when " To be or not to be" were equal chances to a human eye. To be a lord or a slave, to return loaded with the spoils, or remain mingled with the dust of India. — Did necessity always justify the severity of a conqueror, the rude tongue of censure would be silent, and however painfully he might look back on scenes of horror, the pensive reflection would not alarm him. Though his feelings suffered, his conscience would be acquitted. The sad remembrance would move serenely, and leave the mind without a wound. — But Oh India! thou loud proclaimer of European cruelties, thou bloody monument of unnecessary deaths, be tender in the day of enquijy, and show a Christian world thou canst suffer and forgive.

Departed from India, and loaded with plunder, I see him doubling the Cape and looking wistfully to Europe. I see him

' From the Pennsylvania Magazine, March, 1775.
THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [l77S contemplating on years of pleasure, and gratifying his ambition with expected honours. I see his arrival pompously announced in every newspaper, his eager eye rambling thro' the crowd in quest of homage, and his ear listening lest an applause should escape him. Happily for him he arrived before his fame, and the short interval was a time of rest. From the crowd I follow him to the court, I see him enveloped in the sunshine of sovereign favour, rivalling the great in honours, the proud in splendour, and the rich in wealth. From the court I trace him to the country, his equipage moves like a camp ; every village bell proclaims his coming ; the wondering peasants admire his pomp, and his heart runs over with Joy.

But, alas! not satisfied with uncountable thousands, I accompany him again to India. I mark the variety of countenances which appear at his landing. Confusion spreads the news. Every passion seems alarmed. The wailing widow, the crying orphan, and the childless parent remember and lament ; the rival Nabobs court his favour ; the rich dread his power, and the poor his severity. Fear and terror march like pioneers before his camp, murder and rapine accompany it, famine and wretchedness follow in the rear.

Resolved on accumulating an unbounded fortune, he enters into all the schemes of war, treaty, and intrigue. The British sword is set up for sale ; the heads of contending Nabobs are offered at a price, and the bribe taken from both sides. Thousands of men or money are trifles in an India bargain. The field is an empire, and the treasure almost without end. The wretched inhabitants are glad to compound for offences never committed, and to purchase at any rate the privilege to breathe ; while he, the sole lord of their lives and fortunes, disposes of either as he pleases, and prepares for Europe.*
  â€¢ In April, 1773, a Committee of the House of Commons, under the name of the Select Committee, were appointed by the House to enquire into the state of the East India affairs, and the conduct of the several Governors of Bengal. The Committee having gone through the examinations, General Burgoyne, the chairman, prefaced their report to the House, informing them, "that the reports

Uncommon fortunes require an uncommon date of life to enjoy them in. The usual period is spent in preparing to live : And unless nature prolongs the time, fortune bestows her excess of favours in vain.

The conqueror of the east having nothing more to expect from the one, has all his court to make to the other. Anxiety for wealth gives place to anxiety for life ; and wisely recollecting that the sea is no respecter of persons, resolves on taking his route to Europe by land. Little beings move unseen, or unobserved, but he engrosses whole kingdoms in his march, and is gazed at like a comet. The burning desert, the pathless mountains, and the fertile valleys, are in their turns explored and passed over. No material accident distresses his progress, and England once more receives the spoiler.

How sweet is rest to the weary traveller ; the retrospect heightens the enjoyment ; and if the future prospect be serene, the days of ease and happiness are arrived. An uninquiring observer might have been inclined to consider Lord contained accounts shocking to human nature, that the most infamous designs had been carried into execution by perfidy and murder." He recapitulated the wretched situation of the East-Indian princes, who held their dignities on the precarious condition of being the highest bribers. No claim, however just on their part, he said, eould be admitted without being introduced with enormous sums of rupees, nor any prince suffered to reign long, who did not quadrate with this idea ; and that Lord Clive, over and above the enormous sums he might with some appearance of justice lay claim to, had obtained others to which he could have no title. He (General Burgoyne) therefore moved, ' ' That it appears to this house, that Robert Lord Clive, baron of Plassey, about the time of deposing Surajah Dowla, Nabob of Bengal, and establishing Meer Jaffier in his room, did, through the influence of the power with which he was intrusted, as member of the Select Committee in India, and Commander in Chief of the British forces there, obtain and possess himself of two lacks of rupees, as member of the Select Committee ; a further sum of two lacks and 80,000 rupees, as member of the Select Committee ; a further sum of two lacks of rupees, as Commander in Chief ; a further sum of 16 lacks of rupees, or more, under the denomination of private donations j which sums, amounting together to 20 lacks and 80,000 rupees, were of the value, in English money, of ;^234,ooo,* and that in so doing, the said Robert Lord Clive abused the powers with which he was intrusted, to the evil example of the servants of the public." — Author. Equal to ;^340,ooo Pennsylvania currency. — Author.

Clive, under all these agreeable circumstances, one whose every care was over, and who had nothing*to do but sit down and say, Soul, take thine ease, thou hast goods laid up in store for many years.

The reception which he met with on his second arrival, was in every instance equal to, and in many exceeded, the honours of the first. 'Tis the peculiar temper of the English to applaud before they think. Generous of their praise, they frequently bestow it unworthily : but when once the truth arrives, the torrent stops, and rushes back again with the same violence.* Scarcely had the echo of applause ceased upon the ear, than the rude tongue of censure took up the
  â€¢ Lord Clive, in the defence which he made in the House of Commons, against the charges mentioned in the preceding note, very positively insists on his innocence, and very pathetically laments his situation ; and after informing, the House of the thanks which he had some years before received, for the same actions which they are now endeavouring to censure him for, he says,

" After such certificates as these. Sir, am I to be brought here like a criminal, and the very best part of my conduct construed into crimes against the state ? Is this the reward that is now held out to persons who have performed such important services to their country ? If it is, Sir, the future consequences that will attend the execution of any important trust, committed to the persons who have the care of it, will be fatal indeed ; and I am sure the noble Lord upon the treasury bench, whose great humanity and abilities I revere, would never have consented to the resolutions that passed the other night, if he had thought on the dreadful consequences that would attend them. Sir, I cannot say that I either sit or rest easy, when I find that all I have in the world is likely to be confiscated, and that no one will take my security for a shilling. These, Sir, are dreadful apprehensions to remain under, and I cannot but look upon myself as a bankrupt. I have not anything left which I can call my own, except my paternal fortune of £^00 per annum, and which has been in the family for ages past. But upon this I am contented to live, and perhaps I shall find more real content of mind and happiness than in the trembling affluence of an unsettled fortune. But, Sir, I must make one more observation, that, if the definition of the Hon. Gentleman, [General Burgoyne,] and of this House, is that the State, as expressed in these resolutions is, quoad hoc, the Company, then. Sir, every farthing that I enjoy is granted to me. But to be called, after sixteen years have elapsed, to account for my conduct in this manner, and after an uninterrupted enjoyment of my property, to be questioned and considered as obtaining it unwarrantably, is hard indeed ! and a treatment I should not think the British Senate capable of. But if it should be the case, I have a conscious innocence within me, that tells me my conduct is irreproachable. Frangas, mm fiecies. They may take from me what I have ; they may, as they think, make.

tale. The newspapers, fatal enemies to ill-gotten wealth \ began to buz a general suspicion of his conduct, and the inquisitive public soon refined it into particulars. Every post gave a stab to his fame — a wound to his peace — and a nail to his coffin. Like spectres from the grave they haunted him in every company, and whispered murder in his ear. A life chequered with uncommon varieties is seldom a long one. Action and care will in time wear down the strongest frame, but guilt and melancholy are poisons of quick despatch.

Say, cool deliberate reflection was the prize, though abstracted from the guilt, worthy of the pains ? Ah no ! Fatigued with victory he sat down to rest, and while he was recovering breath he lost it. A conqueror more fatal than himself beset him, and revenged the injuries done to India.

As a cure for avarice and ambition let us take a view of him in his latter years. Hah ! what gloomy being wanders yonder? How visibly is the melancholy heart delineated on his countenance. He mourns no common care — His very steps are timed to sorrow — He trembles with a kind of mental palsy. Perhaps 'tis some broken hearted parent, some David mourning for his Absalom, or some Heraclitus weeping for the world. — I hear him mutter something about wealth. — Perhaps he is poor, and hath not wherewithal to hide his head. Some debtor started from his sleepless pillow, to ruminate on poverty, and ponder on the horrors of a jail. Poor man ! I'll' to him and relieve him. Hah! 'tis Lord Clive himself! Bless me, what a change! He makes, I see, for yonder cypress shade — fit scene for melancholy hearts ! — I'll watch him there and listen to his story.

Lord Clive. " Can I but suffer when a beggar pities me. Erewhile I heard a ragged wretch, who every mark of me poor, but I will be happy ! I mean not this as my defence. My defence will be made at the bar ; and before I sit down, I have one request to make to the House, that when ihey come to decide upon my honour, they will not forget their own." ~ Author .

poverty had on, say to a sooty sweep, Ah, poor Lord Clive ! while he the negro-coloured vagrant, more mercifully cruel, curst me in my hearing.

" There was a time when fortune, like a yielding mistress, courted me with smiles — She never waited to be told my wishes, but studied to discover them, and seemed not happy to herself, but when she had some favour to bestow. Ah ! little did I think the fair enchantress would desert me thus ; and after lavishing her smiles upon me, turn my reproacher, and publish me in folio to the world. Volumes of morality are dull and spiritless compared to me. Lord Clive is himself a treatise upon vanity, printed in a golden type. The most unlettered clown writes explanatory notes thereon, and reads them to his children. Yet I could bear these insults could I but bear myself. — A strange unwelcome something hangs about me. In company I seem no company at all. — The festive board appears to me a stage, the crimson coloured port resembles blood — Each glass is strangely metamorphosed to a man in armour, and every bowl appears a Nabob. The joyous toast is like the sound of murder, and the loud laughs are groans of dying men. The scenes of India are all rehearsed, and no one sees the tragedy but myself. — Ah ! I discover things which are not, and hear unuttered sounds

" O peace, thou sweet companion of the calm and innocent ! Whither art thou fled ? Here take my gold, and all the world calls mine, and come thou in exchange. Or thou, thou noisy sweep, who mix thy food with soot and relish it, who canst descend from lofty heights and walk the humble earth again, without repining at the change, come teach that mystery to me. Or thou, thou ragged wandering beggar, who, when thou canst not beg successfully, will pilfer from the hound, and eat the dirty morsel sweetly ; be thou Lord Clive, and I will beg, so I may laugh like thee.

" Could I unlearn what I've already learned — unact what I've already acted — or would some sacred power convey me back to youth and innocence, I'd act another part — I'd

i77S]

The Life and Death of Lord Clive keep within the vale of humble life, nor wish for what the world calls pomp.

" But since this cannot be, And only a few days and sad remain for me, I'll haste to quit the scene ; for what is life When every passion of the soul 's at strife ? " *

Atlanticus. Some time before his death he became very melancholy — subject to strange imaginations — and was found dead at last. — Author,

VII. Cupid and Hymen.'

An Original.

As the little amorous deity was one day winging his way over a village in Arcadia, he was drawn by the sweet sound of the pipe and tabor, to descend and see what was the matter. The gods themselves are sometimes ravished with the simplicity of mortals. The groves of Arcadia were once the country seats of the celestials, where they relaxed from the business of the skies, and partook of the diversions of the villagers. Cupid being descended, was charmed with the lovely appearance of the place. Every thing he saw had an air of pleasantness. Every shepherd was in his holyday dress, and every shepherdess was decorated with a profusion of flowers. The sound of labour was not heard among them. The little cottages had a peaceable look, and were almost hidden with arbours of jessamine and myrtle. The way to the temple was strewed with flowers, and enclosed with a number of garlands and green arches. Surely, quoth Cupid, here is a festival today. I'll hasten and enquire the matter.

So saying, he concealed his bow and quiver, and took a turn thro' the village : As he approached a building distinguished from all the rest by the elegance of its appearance, he heard a sweet confusion of voices mingled with instrumental music. What is the matter, said Cupid to a swain who was sitting under a sycamore by the way-side, and humming a very melancholy tune, why are you not at the

'From the Pennsylvania Magazine, April, 1775. 36 feast, and why are you so sad ? I sit here, answered the swain, to see a sight, and a sad sight 'twill be. What is it, said Cupid, come tell me, for perhaps I can help you. I was once happier than a king, replied the swain, and was envied by all the shepherds of the place, but now everything is dark and gloomy, because — Because what ? said Cupid — Because I am robbed of my Ruralinda; Gothic, the Lord of the manor, hath stolen her from me, and this is to be the nuptial day. A wedding, quoth Cupid, and I know nothing of it, you must be mistaken, shepherd, I keep a record of marriages, and no such thing has come to my knowledge. 'Tis no wedding, I assure you, if I am not consulted about it. The Lord of the manor, continued the shepherd, consulted nobody but Ruralinda's mother, and she longed to see her fair daughter the Lady of the manor: He hath spent a deal of money to make all this appearance, for money will do anything ; I only wait here to see her come by, and then farewell to the hills and dales. Cupid bade him not be rash, and left him. This is another of Hymen's tricks, quoth Cupid to himself, he hath frequently served me thus, but I'll hasten to him, and have it out with him. So saying, he repaired to the mansion. Everything there had an air of grandeur rather than of joy, sumptuous but not serene. The company were preparing to walk in procession to the temple. The Lord of the manor looked like the father of the village, and the business he was upon gave a foolish awkwardness to his age and dignity. Ruralinda smiled, because she would smile, but in that smile was sorrow. Hymen with a torch faintly burning on one side only stood ready to accompany them. The gods when they please can converse in silence, and in that language Cupid began on Hymen.

Know, Hymen, said he, that I am your master. Indulgent Jove gave you to me as a clerk, not as a rival, much less a superior. 'Tis my province to form the union, and yours to witness it. But of late you have treacherously assumed to set up for yourself. 'Tis true you may chain couples to- . gether hke criminals, but you cannot yoke them Hke lovers;

besides you are such a dull fellow when I am not with you, that you poison the felicities of life. You have not a grace but what is borrowed from me. As well may the moon attempt to enlighten the earth without the sun, as you to bestow happiness when I am absent. At best you are but a temporal and a temporary god, whom Jove has appointed not to bestow, but to secure happiness, and restrain the infidelity of mankind. But assure yourself that I'll complain of you to the Synod.

This is very high indeed, replied Hymen, to be called to an account by such a boy of a god as you are. You are not of such importance in the world as your vanity thinks ; for my own part I have enlisted myself with another master, and can very well do without you. Plutus * and I are greater than Cupid ; you may complain and welcome, for Jove himself descended in a silver shower and conquered : and by the same power the Lord of the manor hath won a damsel, in spite of all the arrows in your quiver.

Cupid, incensed at this reply, resolved to support his authority, and expose the folly of Hymen's pretentions to independance. As the quarrel was carried on in silence, the company were not interrupted by it. . The procession began to set forward to the temple, where the ceremony was to be performed. The Lord of the manor led the beautiful Ruralinda like a lamb devoted to sacrifice. Cupid immediately despatched a petition for assistance to his mother on one of the sun-beams, and the same messenger returning in an instant, informed him that whatever he wished should be done. He immediately cast the old Lord and Ruralinda into one of the most extraordinary sleeps ever known. They continued walking in the procession, talking to each other, and observing every ceremony with as much order as if they had been awake; their souls had in a manner crept from their bodies, as snakes creep from their skin, and leave the perfect appearance of themselves behind : And so rapidly does imagination change the landscape of life, that in the same space of time which passed over while they were walking to * God of riches. — Author. the temple, they both ran through, in a strange variety of dreams, seven years of wretched matrimony. In which imaginary time, Gothic experienced all the mortification which age wedded to youth must expect; and she all the infelicity which such a sale and sacrifice of her person justly deserved.

In this state of reciprocal discontent they arrived at the temple : Cupid still continued them in their slumber, and in order to expose the consequences of such marriages, he wrought so magically on the imaginations of them both, that he drove Gothic distracted at the supposed infidelity of his wife, and she mad with joy at the supposed death of her husband ; and just as the ceremony was about to be performed, each of them broke out into such passionate soliloquies, as threw the whole company into confusion. He exclaiming, she rejoicing ; he imploring death to relieve him, and she preparing to bury him ; gold, quoth Ruralinda, may be bought too dear, but the grave has befriended me. — The company believing them mad, conveyed them away, Gothic to his mansion, and Ruralinda to her cottage. The next day they awoke, and being grown wise without loss of time, or the pain of real experience, they mutually declined proceeding any farther. — The old Lord continued as he was, and generously bestowed a handsome dowry on Ruralinda, who was soon after wedded to the young shepherd, that had piteously bewailed the loss of her. — The authority of Cupid was re-established, and Hymen ordered never more to appear in the village, unless Cupid introduced him.

Esop

VIII. Duelling.'

" Cursory Reflections on the Single Combat or Modern Duel. Addressed to Gentlemen in every Class of Life."

Gothic and absurd as the custom of duelling is generally allowed to be, there are advocates for it on principle; reasoners, who coolly argue for the necessity and even convenience, of this mode of accommodating certain kinds of personal differences, and of redressing certain species of injuries, for which the laws have not provided proper or adequate remedies : they conclude, therefore, that an appeal to the sword is a requisite supplement to the law, and that this sort of satisfaction for extra judicial offences, must take place, till some other mode shall be devised and established. The learned Dr. Robertson has observed, in favour of this practice — even while he condemns it — that its influence on modern manners, has been found, in some respects, beneficial to mankind.

" To this absurd custom," says he, " we must ascribe, in some degree, the extraordinary gentleness and complaisance of modern manners, and that respectful attention of one man to another, which, at present, render the social intercourses of life far more agreeable and decent than amongst the most civilized nations of antiquity." "
1775] DUELLING.

The author of these considerations ["Cursory Reflections "] reduces the arguments which have been offered in behalf of the private combat to these two.

I. That the duel is the only expedient to obtain satisfaction for those injuries of which the laws take no cognizance.

II. That a man of honour is bound on pain of infamy to resent every indignity that may be offered to him with the point of his sword or with a pistol.

These positions our sensible author undertakes to refute ; and we shall give a specimen of his reasoning : but, first, it will not be improper to lay before our readers part of what he has said on the origin of the single combat, or duel.

"The ancient states," says he, "of Greece and Rome, from •whence we derive the noblest models of heroism, supported private honour, without delivering down to us any evidences of this baneful custom of demanding so severe a decision of private affronts ; which, considering the military spirit of these nations, must, if it obtained at all, have proved more destructive to them at home, than the united swords of their enemies abroad. The practice is in fact of later and more ignoble birth ; the judicial combat, the parent of modern duels, springing from monkish superstition, grafted on feudal barbarism. Whoever reads Kurd's entertaining and ingenious " Letters on Chivalry and Romance," with Robertson's elaborate "History of the Emperor Charles V.," will no longer hesitate concerning the clear fact.

" The judicial combat obtained in ignorant ages, on a conclusion that in this appeal to Providence, innocence and right would be pointed out by victory, and guilt stigmatised and punished by defeat. But alas ! experience at length taught us not to expect a miraculous interposition, whenever superior strength, superior skill, and superior bravery or ferocity, either or all of them, happened to appear on the side of injustice."

Dr. Robertson, above quoted, denies the fashion (as the writer of these reflections has observed) of terminating private differences by the sword, or pistol, by the illustrious example of the challenge sent by Francis I. of France to the Emperor Charles V. This was not, indeed, the first instance of such challenges, among princes ; but, as our author remarks, the dignity of the parties, in the present case, afforded a sufificient sanction for extending this mode of deciding differences ; to which we may add, that the spirit of chivalry and romantic knighthood still prevailing in those fighting times, was continually exciting the heroes of the age to this mode of proving their personal prowess and valour.

We now return to our author's manner of reasoning upon the postulata before stated :

" With respect to the first argument," says he, " if we annex any determined ideas to our words, by satisfaction we are to understand redress, compensation, amends or atonement. Now, Gentlemen ! for the sake of all that is valuable in life, condescend for a minute to bring down your refined notions to the sure standard of common sense, and then weigh the satisfaction to be obtained in a duel.

" Is satisfaction to be enforced from an adversary by putting a weapon into his hand, and standing a contention with him, life for life, upon an equal chance ?

" Is an offender against the rules of gentility, or against the obligations of morality, a man presumptively destitute of honour himself, fairly entitled to this equal chance of extending an injury already committed, to the irreparable degree of taking the hfe also from an innocent man ?

" If a gentleman is infatuated enough to meet a person who has degraded himself from the character of a gentleman, upon these equal terms, and loses a limb, or his life, what species of satisfaction can that be called ? — But it is better to suffer death than indignity. What, from the injurious hand ? Correct your ideas, and you will esteem life too valuable to be complimented away for a mistaken notion.

" If the aggressor falls, the full purpose of the injured person is thus answered, but what is the satisfaction ? The survivor becomes a refugee, like a felon ; or if he should be cleared by the equivocal tenderness of a court of justice, must he not be a barbarian instead of a gentleman, who can feed upon this inhuman bloody satisfaction, without experiencing the pangs of self-reproach, for having sacrificed the life of a fellow creature to a mere punctilio ; and perhaps involved the ruin of an innocent family by the brutal deed ? If, on the other hand, he is really a mistaken man of humanity, what has he obtained ? The satisfaction of imbittering all the remainder of his life with the keenest sorrow ; of having forfeited all his future peace of mind by a consciousness of guilt, from which his notions of honour can never release him, till the load drags him down to the grave !

" If a man of strict honour is reduced to beg his life of a mere pretender to honour, a scoundrel ; what satisfaction can this be esteemed ? Is not this a mortifying, a painful aggravation of a wrong already sustained? What consolation can honour afford for such a disgrace ? "

Our author has some other very sensible animadversions on this first branch of the argument in defence of duelling ; after which, he proceeds to the second plea, viz. "The obligation of resenting affronts in this manner, founded on the infamy of suspected courage " ; and, in our opinion, he satisfactorily proves that this argument is by no means irrefragable : but for his reasoning on this delicate point, w^e must refer to his pamphlet, and proceed to take notice of his plan for putting a stop to the practice of duelling.

In the first place, he recommends that a law be passed, " declaring the act of sending a challenge, or the reducing a person to defend his life with sword or pistol, to be felony ; and the killing a person in a duel, to be punished as murder, without benefit of clergy, unless sufficient proof is made that the party killed, really urged the combat."

As this first part of his proposal relates rather to the mode of punishing, than the means of preventing duels, he proceeds :

" In every quarrel between two gentlemen where satisfaction is thought necessary, let the parties be empowered to summon a jury of honour from among their friends, six to be appointed by one gentleman, and six by the other, or in case of a refusal of either party, let the six chosen by the other complete the number by their own appointment, each nominating one ; and finally, let all this be done, if possible, free from the embarrassing intervention of lawyers.

" Let this jury of honour, when duly assembled, discuss the merits of the dispute in question, and form their opinion by a majority of votes ; but to guard against generating fresh quarrels by the discovery of the votes on either side, let the whole twelve be bound to secrecy upon their honour, and the whole twelve sign the verdict of the majority. Let a copy of this verdict be delivered to the gentleman whose conduct is condemned ; and if he refuses to make the required concession or due satisfaction, let this opinion be published in such a manner as may be thought proper, and be understood to divest him of his character as a gentleman so long as he remains contumacious.

" By this single expedient, conveyed in few words, it is hoped the necessity of duels may be effectually superseded, the practice suppressed, and ample satisfaction enforced for all injuries of honour. In the examination of subjects of importance we are often tempted to overlook the thing we want, on a supposition that it cannot be near at hand. This plan may perhaps admit of amendment, but it is feared the more complicated it is rendered, the more difficult it may prove to carry into execution : and it is hoped, as it is, it will not be the worse thought of, for coming from an unknown pen."

With respect to the practicability of this scheme, vi^e apprehend that the great difficulty wrould lie in obliging the quarrelling parties, or either of them (vsrho by the author's plan are merely empowered), to refer the matter to a court of honour. But the writer does not give this as a finished plan : he barely suggests the hint ; leaving others to improve upon it, if thought worthy of farther consideration.

As to the proposed act for punishing the survivor, where one of the parties has fallen in the conflict, it is, indeed, a melancholy truth, that our laws in being have been found inadequate to the purpose of preventing duels by the dread of legal consequences. The King of Sweden's method was virtually the same which is here recommended ; and it is said to have been effectual in that Kingdom.

The great Gustavus Adolphus, finding that the custom of duelling was becoming alarmingly prevalent among the officers in his army, was determined to suppress, if possible. those false notions of honour. Soon after the King had formed this resolution, and issued some very rigorous edicts against the practice, a quarrel arose between two of his generals ; who agreed to crave His Majesty's pardon to decide the quarrel by the laws of honour. The King consented, and said he would be a spectator of the combat ; he went, accordingly, to the place appointed, attended by a body of guards, and the public executioner. He then told the combatants that " they must fight till one of them died " ; and turning to the executioner, he added, " Do you immediately strike off the head of the survivor." The monarch's inflexibility had the desired effect : the difference between the two ofificers was adjusted ; and no more challenges were heard of in the army of Gustavus Adolphus.

From the peculiar prevalence of this custom in countries where the religious system is established, which, of all others, most expressly prohibits the gratification of revenge, with every species of outrage and violence, we too plainly see, how little mankind are, in reality, influenced by the principles of the religion by which they profess to be guided, and in defence of which they will occasionally risk even their lives.

IX. Reflections on Titles.'

Ask me what 's honour? I '11 the truth impart : Know, honour then, is Honesty of Heart.

Whitehead.

When I reflect on the pompous titles Ijestowed on unworthy men, I feel an indignity that instructs me to despise the absurdity. The Honourable plunderer of his country, or the Right Honourable murderer of mankind, create such a contrast of ideas as exhibit a monster rather than a man. Virtue is inflamed at the violation, and sober reason calls it nonsense.

Dignities and high sounding names have different effects on different beholders. The lustre of the Star and the title of My Lord, over-awe the superstitious vulgar, and forbid them to inquire into the character of the possessor : Nay more, they are, as it were, bewitched to admire in the great, the vices they would honestly condemn in themselves. This sacrifice of common sense is the certain badge which distinguishes slavery from freedom ; for when men yield up the privilege of thinking, the last shadow of liberty quits the horizon.

But the reasonable freeman sees through the magic of a title, and examines the man before he approves him. To him the honours of the worthless serve to write their masters' vices in capitals, and their stars shine to no other end than to read them by. The possessors of undue honours are themselves sensible of this ; for when their repeated guilt renders their persons unsafe, they disown their rank,

' From the Pennsylvania Magazine, May, 1775. Editor.

Reflections on Titles and, like glow-worms, extinguish themselves into common reptiles, to avoid discovery. Thus Jeffries sunk into a fisherman, and his master escaped in the habit of a peasant. Modesty forbids men, separately or collectively, to assume titles. But as all honours, even that of Kings, originated from the public, the public may justly be called the fountain of true honour. And it is with much pleasure I have heard the title of Honourable applied to a body of men, who nobly disregarding private ease and interest for public welfare, have justly merited the address of The Honourable Continental Congress.

Vox POPULI.

X. The Dream Interpreted."

Parched with thirst and wearied with a fatiguing journeyto Virginia, I turned out of the road to shelter myself among the shades ; in a little time I had the good fortune to light on a spring, and the refreshing draught went sweetly down. How little of luxury does nature want ! This cooling stream administered more relief than all the wines of Oporto ; I drank and was satisfied ; my fatigue abated, my wasted spirits were reinforced, and 'tis no wonder after such a delicious repast that I sunk insensibly into slumber. The wildest fancies in that state of forgetfulness always appear regular and connected ; nothing is wrong in a dream, be it ever so unnatural. I am apt to think that the wisest men dream the most inconsistently: for as the judgment has nothing or very little to do in regulating the circumstances of a dream, it necessarily follows that the more powerful and creative the imagination is, the wilder it runs in that state of unrestrained invention : While those who are unable to wander out of the track of common thinking when awake, never exceed the boundaries of common nature when asleep.

But to return from my digression, which in this place is nothing more than that wandering of fancy which every dreamer is entitled to, and which cannot in either case be applied to myself, as in the dream I am about to relate I was only a spectator, and had no other business to do than to remember.

To what scene or country my ideas had conveyed themselves, or whether they had created a region on purpose to

' From the Pennsylvania Magazine, June, 1775. — Editor. 48 explore, I know not, but I saw before me one of the most pleasing landscapes I have ever beheld. I gazed at it, till my mind partaking of the prospect became incorporated therewith, and felt all the tranquillity of the place. In this state of ideal happiness I sat down on the side of a mountain, totally forgetful of the world I had left behind me. The most delicious fruits presented themselves to my hands, and one of the clearest rivers that ever watered the earth rolled along at the foot of the mountain, and invited me to drink.. The distant hills were blue with the tincture of the skies,, and seemed as if they were the threshold of the celestial region. But while I gazed the whole scene began to change,, by an almost insensible gradation. The sun, instead of administering life and health, consumed everything with an intolerable heat. The verdure withered. The hills appeared burnt and black. The fountains dried away ; and the atmosphere became a motionless lake of air, loaded with pestilence and death. After several days of wretched suffocation, the sky grew darkened with clouds from every quarter, till one extended storm excluded the face of heaven. A dismal silence took place, as if the earth, struck with a general panic, was listening like a criminal to the sentence of death. The glimmering light with which the sun feebly penetrated the clouds began to fail, till Egyptian darkness added to the horror. The beginning of the tempest was announced by a confusion of distant thunders, till at length a general discharge of the whole artillery of heaven was poured down upon the earth. Trembling I shrunk into the side of a cave, and dreaded the event. The mountain shook, and threatened me with instant destruction. The rapid lightning at every blaze exhibited the landscape of a world on fire, while the accumulating torrent, not in rain, but floods of water, resembled another deluge.

creation could have restored. Instead of which, the prospect was lovely and inviting, and had all the promising appearance of exceeding its former glory. The air, purged of its poisonous vapours, was fresh and healthy. The dried fountains were replenished, the waters sweet and wholesome. The sickly earth, recovered to new life, abounded with vegetation. The groves were musical with innumerable songsters, and the long-deserted fields echoed with the joyous sound of the husbandman. All, all was fehcity ; and what I had dreaded as an evil, became a blessing. At this happy reflection I awoke ; and having refreshed myself with another draught from the friendly spring, pursued my journey.

After travelling a few miles I fell in with a companion, and as we rode through a wood but little frequented by travellers, I began, for the sake of chatting away the tediousness of the journey, to relate my dream. I think, replied my friend, that I can interpret it : That beautiful country which you saw is America. The sickly state you beheld her in, has been coming on her for these ten years past. Her commerce has been drying up by repeated restrictions, till by one merciless edict the ruin of it is compleated. The pestilential atmosphere represents that ministerial corruption which surrounds and exercises its dominion over her, and which nothing but a storm can purify. The tempest is the present contest, and the event will be the same. She will rise with new glories from the conflict, and her fame be established in every corner of the globe ; while it will be remembered to her eternal honour, that she has not sought the quarrel, but has been driven into it. He who guides the natural tempest will regulate the political one, and bring good out of evil. In our petition to Britain we asked but for peace ; but the prayer was rejected. The cause is now before a higher court, the court of providence, before whom the arrogance of kings, the infidelity of ministers, the general corruption of government, and all the cobweb artifice of courts, will fall confounded and ashamed.

Bucks County.

REFLECTIONS ON UNHAPPY MARRIAGES;

Though 't is confessed on all hands that the weal or woe of life depends on no one circumstance so critical as matrimony, yet how few seem to be influenced by this universal acknowledgement, or act with a caution becoming the danger.

Those that are undone this way, are the young, the rash and amorous, whose hearts are ever glowing with desire, whose eyes are ever roaming after beauty ; these doat on the first amiable image that chance throws in their way, and when the flame is once kindled, would risk eternity itself to appease it. — But, still like their first parents, they no sooner taste the tempting fruit, but their eyes are opened : the folly of their intemperance becomes visible ; shame succeeds first, and then repentance ; but sorrow for themselves soon returns to anger with the innocent cause of their unhappiness. Hence flow bitter reproaches, and keen invectives, which end in mutual hatred and contempt : Love abhors clamour and soon flies away, and happiness finds no entrance when love is gone ; Thus for a few hours of dalliance, I will not call it affection, the repose of all their future days are sacrificed ; and those who but just before seem'd to live only for each other, now would almost cease to live, that the separation might be eternal.

But hold, says the man of phlegm and economy, all are not of this hasty turn — I allow it — there are persons in the
52 THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE. [l775 world who are young without passions, and in health without appetite : these hunt out a wife as they go to Smithfield for a horse ; and inter-marry fortunes, not minds, or even bodies: In this case the Bridegroom has no joy but in taking possession of the portion, and the bride dreams of little beside new clothes, visits and congratulations. Thus, as their expectations of pleasure are not very great, neither is the disappointment very grievous ; they just keep each other in countenance, live decently, and are exactly as fond the twentieth year of matrimony, as the first. But I would not advise any one to call this state of insipidity happiness, because it would argue him both ignorant of its nature, and incapable of enjoying it. Mere absence of pain will undoubtedly constitute ease ; and, without ease, there can be no happiness : Ease, however, is but the medium, through which happiness is tasted, and but passively receives what the last actually bestows ; if therefore the rash who marry inconsiderately, perish in the storms raised by their own passions, these slumber away their days in a sluggish calm, and rather dream they live, than experience it by a series of actual sensible enjoyments.

As matrimonial happiness is neither the result of insipidity, or ill-grounded passion, surely those, who make their court to age, ugliness, and all that 's detestable both in mind and body, cannot hope to find it, tho' qualified with all the riches that avarice covets, or Plutus could bestow. Matches of this kind are downright prostitution, however softened by the letter of the law ; and he or she who receives the golden equivalent of youth and beauty, so wretchedly bestowed, can never enjoy what they so dearly purchased : The shocking incumbrance would render the sumptuous banquet tasteless, and the magnificent bed loathsome ; rest would disdain the one, and appetite sicken at the other ; uneasiness wait upon both ; even gratitude itself would almost cease to be obliging, and good-manners grow such a burden, that the best bred or best-natured people breathing, would be often tempted to throw it down.

But say we should not wonder that those who either marry gold without love, or love without gold, should be miserable : I can't forbear being astonished, if such whose fortunes are affluent, whose desires were mutual, who equallylanguished for the happy moment before it came, and seemed for a while to be equally transported when it had taken place : If even these should, in the end, prove as unhappy as either of the others ! And yet how often is this the melancholy circumstance ! As extasy abates, coolness succeeds, which often makes way for indifference, and that for neglect: Sure of each other by the nuptial band, they no longer take any pains to be mutually agreeable ; careless if they displease ; and yet angry if reproached ; with so little relish for each other's company, that anybody's else is welcome, and more entertaining. Their union thus broke, they pursue separate pleasures ; never meet but to wrangle, or part but to find comfort in other society. After this the descent is easy to utter aversion, which having wearied itself out with heart-burnings, clamours, and affronts, subsides into a perfect insensibility ; when fresh objects of love step in to their relief on either side, and mutual infidelity makes way for mutual complaisance, that each may be the better able to deceive the other.

I shall conclude with the sentiments of an American savage on this subject, who being advised by one of our countrymen to marry according to the ceremonies of the church, as being the ordinance of an infinitely wise and good God, briskly replied, "That either the Christians' God was not so good and wise as he was represented, or he never meddled with the marriages of his people ; since not one in a hundred of them had anything to do either with happiness or common sense. Hence," continued he, " as soon as ever you meet you long to part ; and, not having this relief in your power, by way of revenge, double each other's misery : Whereas in ours, which have no other ceremony than mutual affection, and last no longer than they bestow mutual pleasures, we make it our business to oblige the heart we are afraid to lose ; and being at liberty to separate, seldom or never feel the inclination. But if any should be found so wretched among us, as to hate where the only commerce ought to be love, we instantly dissolve the band : God made us all in pairs ; each has his mate somewhere or other ; and 't is our duty to find each other out, since no creature was ever intended to be miserable."

XII. Thoughts on Defensive War."

Could the peaceable principle of the Quakers be universally established, arms and the art of war would be wholly extirpated : But we live not in a world of angels. Tl^*- reign of Satan is not ended ; neither are we to expect to be defended by miracles. The pillar of the cloud existed only in the wilderness. In the nonage of the Israelites. It protected them in their retreat from Pharaoh, while they were destitute of the natural means of defence, for they brought no arms from Egypt ; but it neither fought their battles nor shielded them from dangers afterwards. T I am thus far a Quaker, that I would gladly agree with all tHe world to lay aside the use of arms, and settle matters by negotiation ; but unless the whole will, the matter ends, and I take up my musket and thank heaven he has put it in my power. 
Whoever considers the unprincipled enemy we have to cope with, will not hesitate to declare that nothing but arms or miracles can reduce them to reason and moderation. They have lost sight of the limits of humanity. The portrait of a parent red with the blood of her children is a picture fit only for the galleries of the infernals. From the House of Commons the troops of Britain have been exhorted to fight, not for the defence of their natural rights, not to repel the invasion or the insult of enemies ; but on the vilest of all pretences, gold. " Ye fight for solid revenue " was vociferated in the House. Thus America wiust suffer because she 'From the Pennsylvania Magazine, July, 1775. Probably by Paine — Editor.

has something to lose. Her crime is property. That which allures the Highwayman has allured the ministry under a gentler name. But the position laid down by Lord Sandwich, is a clear demonstration of the justice of defensive arms. The Americans, quoth this Quixote of modern days, will not fight ; therefore we will. His Lordship's plan when analized amounts to this. These people are either too superstitiously rehgious, or too cowardly for arms ; they either cannot or dare not defend ; their property is open to any one who has the courage to attack them. Send but your troops and the prize is ours. Kill a few and take the whole. Thus the peaceable part of mankind will be continually overrun by the vile and abandoned, while they neglect the means of self defence. The supposed quietude of a good man allures the rufifian ; while on the other hand, arms like laws discourage and keep the invader and the plunderer in awe, and preserve order in the world as well as property. The balance of power is the scale of peace. The same balance would be preserved were all the world destitute of arms, for all would be alike ; but since some will not, others dare not lay them aside. And while a single nation refuses to lay them down, it is proper that all should keep them up. Horrid mischief would ensue were one half the world deprived of the use of them ; for while avarice and ambition have a place in the heart of man, the weak will become a prey to the strong. The history of every age and nation establishes these truths, and facts need but little arguments when they prove themselves.

But there is a point to view this matter in of superior consequence to the defence of property ; and that point is Liberty in all its meanings. In the barbarous ages of the world, men in general had no liberty. The strong governed the weak at will; 'till the coming of Christ there was no such thing as political freedom in any known part of the earth. The Jewish kings were in point of government as absolute as the Pharaohs. Men were frequently put to death without trial at the will of the Sovereign. The

Romans held the world in slavery, and were themselves the slaves of their emperors. The madman of Macedon governed lay caprice and passion, and strided as arrogantly over the world as if he had made and peopled it ; and it is needless to imagine that other nations at that time were more refined. Wherefore political as well as spiritual freedom is the gift of God through Christ. The second in the catalogue of blessings ; and so intimately related, so sympathetically united with the first, that the one cannot be wounded without communicating an injury to the other. Political liberty is the visible pass which guards the religions. It is the outwork by which the church militant is defended, and the attacks of the enemy are frequently made through this fortress. The same power which has established a restraining Port Bill in the Colonies, has established a restraining Protestant Church Bill in Canada.

I had the pleasure and advantage of hearing this matter wisely investigated, by a gentleman, in a sermon to one of the battalions of this city ; and am fully convinced, that spiritual freedom is the root of political liberty.

First. Because till spiritual freedom was made manifest, political liberty did not exist.

Secondly. "b"e"cause in proportion that spiritual freedom has been manifested, political liberty has encreased.

Thirdly. Whenever the visible church has been oppressed, political freedom has suffered with it. Read the history of Mary and the Stuarts. The popish world at this day by not knowing the full manifestation of spiritual freedom, enjoy but a shadow of political liberty. — Though I am unwilling to accuse the present government of popish principles, they cannot, I think, be clearly acquitted of popish practices ; the facility with which they perceive the dark and ignorant are governed, in popish nations, will always be a temptation to the lovers of arbitrary power to adopt the same methods. Y^s the union between spiritual freedom and political liEerty seems nearly inseparable, it is our duty to defend both. And defence in the first instance is best. The lives of hundreds of both countries had been preserved had America been in arms a year ago. Our enemies have mistaken our peace for cow&rdice, and supposing us unarmed have begun the attack.

A Lover of Peace.

XIII. An Occasional Letter on the Female Sex.'

O Woman ! lovely Woman ! Nature made thee to temper man, We had been Brutes without you.

Otway.

If we take a survey of ages and of countries, we shall find the women, almost — without exception — at all times and in all places, adored and oppressed. Man, who has never neglected an opportunity of exerting his power, in paying homage to their beauty, has always availed himself of their weakness. He has been at once their tyrant and their slave.

Nature herself, in forming beings so susceptible and tender, appears to have been more attentive to their charms than to their happiness. Continually surrounded with griefs and fears, the women more than share all our miseries, and are besides subjected to ills which are peculiarly their own. They cannot be the means of life without exposing themselves to the loss of it ; every revolution which they undergo, alters their health, and threatens their existence. Cruel distempers attack their beauty — and the hour, which confirms their release from those, is perhaps the most melancholy of their lives. It robs them of the most essential characteristic of their sex. They can then only hope for protection from the humiliating claims of pity, or the feeble voice of gratitude.

Society, instead of alleviating their condition, is to them the source of new miseries. More than one half of the globe

' From the Pennsylvania Magazine, August, 1775. — Editor. 59

is covered with savages ; and among all these people women are completely wretched. Man, in a state of barbarity, equally cruel and indolent, active by necessity, but naturally inclined to repose, is acquainted with little more than the physical effects of love ; and, having none of those moral ideas which only can soften the empire of force, he is led to consider it as his supreme law, subjecting to his despotism those whom reason had made his equal, but whose imbecility betrayed them to his strength. " Nothing " (says Professor Miller, speaking of the women of barbarous nations) " can exceed the dependence and subjection in which they are kept, or the toil and drudgery which they are obliged to undergo. The husband, when he is not engaged in some warlike exercise, indulges himself in idleness, and devolves upon his wife the whole burden of his domestic affairs. He disdains to assist her in any of those servile employments. She sleeps in a different bed, and is seldom permitted to have any conversation or correspondence with him."

The women among the Indians of America are what the Helots were among the Spartans, a vanquished people, obliged to toil for their conquerors. Hence on the banks of the Oroonoko, we have seen mothers slaying their daughters out of compassion, and smothering them in the hour of their birth. They consider this barbarous pity as a virtue.

" The men (says Commodore Byron, in his account of the inhabitants of South-America) exercise a most despotic authority over their wives, whom they consider in the same view they do any other part of their property, and dispose of them accordingly : Even their common treatment of them is cruel ; for though the toil and hazard of procuring food lies entirely on the women, yet they are not suffered to touch any part of it till the husband is satisfied ; and then he assigns them their portion, which is generally very scanty, and such as he has not a stomach for himself."

Among the nations of the East we find another kind of despotism and dominion prevail — the Seraglio, and the domestic servitude of woman, authorised by the manners

1775] OCCASIONAL LETTER ON THE FEMALE SEX. 6l

and established by the laws. In Turkey, in Persia, in India, in Japan, and over the vast empire of China, one half of the human species is oppressed by the other.

The excess of oppression in those countries springs from the excess of love.

All Asia is covered with prisons, where beauty in bondage waits the caprices of a master. The multitude of women there assembled have no will, no inclinations but his : Their triumphs are only for a moment ; and their rivalry, their hate, and their animosities, continue till death. There the lovely sex are obliged to repay even their servitude with the most tender affections; or, what is still more mortifying,, with the counterfeit of an affection, which they do not feel : There the most gloomy tyranny has subjected them to creatures, who, being of neither sex, are a dishonour to both : There, in short, their education tends only to debase them ; their virtues are forced ; their very pleasures are involuntary and joyless ; and after an existence of a few years — till the bloom of youth is over — their period of neglect commences, which is long and dreadful. In the temperate latitude where the climates, giving less ardour to passion,, leave more confidence in virtue, the women have not been deprived of their liberty, but a severe legislation has, at all times, kept them in a state of dependence. One while, they were confined to their own apartments, and debarred at once from business and amusement ; at other times, a tedious guardianship defrauded their hearts, and insulted their understandings. Affronted in one country by polygamy, which gives them their rivals for their inseparable companions ; inslaved in another by indissoluble ties, which often join the gentle to the rude, and sensibility to brutahty: Even in countries where they may be esteemed most happy, constrained in their desires in the disposal of their goods, robbed of freedom of will by the laws, the slaves of opinion, which rules them with absolute sway, and construes the sHghtest appearances into guilt ; surrounded on all sides by judges, who are at once tyrants and their seducers, and who, after having prepared their faults, punish every lapse with dishonour — nay, usurp the right of degrading them on suspicion ! Who does not feel for the tender sex ? Yet such, I am sorry to say, is the lot of woman over the whole earth. Man with regard to them, in all climates, and in all ages, has been either an insensible husband or an oppressor ; but they have sometimes experienced the cold and deliberate oppression of pride, and sometimes the violent and terrible tyranny of jealousy. When they are not beloved they are nothing; and, when they are, they are tormented. They have almost equal cause to be afraid of indifference and of love. Over three quarters of the globe nature has placed them between contempt and misery.

" The melting desires, or the fiery passions," says Professor Ferguson, " which in one climate take place between the sexes, are, in another, changed into a sober consideration, or a patience of mutual disgust. This change is remarked in crossing the Mediterranean, in following the course of the Mississippi, in ascending the mountains of Caucasus, and in passing from the Alps and the Pyrenees to the shores of the Baltic.

" The burning ardours and torturing jealousies of the Seraglio and Harem, which have reigned so long in Asia and Africa, and which, in the southern parts of Europe, have scarcely given way to the differences of religion and civil establishments, are found, however, with an abatement of heat in the climate, to be more easily changed, in one latitude, into a temporary passion, which engrosses the mind without infeebling it, and which excites to romantic atchievments. By a farther progress to the north it is changed into a spirit of gallantry, which employs the wit and fancy more than the heart, which prefers intrigue to enjojTnent, and substitutes affection and vanity where sentiment and desire have failed. As it departs from the sun, the same passion is farther composed into a habit of domestic connection, or frozen into a state of insensibility, under which the sexes at freedom scarcely choose to unite their society."

Even among people where beauty received the highest homage, we find men who would deprive the sex of every kind of reputation : " The most virtuous woman," says a celebrated Greek, " is she who is least talked of." That morose man, while he imposes duties upon women, would deprive them of the sweets of public esteem, and in exacting virtues from them, would make it a crime to aspire at honour.

If a woman were to defend the cause of her sex, she might address him in the following manner :

" How great is your injustice ? If we have an equal right with you to virtue, why should we not have an equal right to praise ? The public esteem ought to wait upon merit. Our duties are different from yours, but they are not therefore less difficult to fulfil, or of less consequence to society : They are the fountains of your felicity, and the sweetness of life. We are wives and mothers. 'T is we who form the union and the cordiality of families : 'T is we who soften that savage rudeness which considers everything as due to force, and which would involve man with man in eternal war. We cultivate in you that humanity which makes you feel for the misfortunes of others, and our tears forewarn you of your own danger. Nay, you cannot be ignorant that we have need of courage not less than you : More feeble in ourselves, we have perhaps more trials to encounter. Nature assails us with sorrow, law and custom press us with constraint, and sensibility and virtue alarm us with their continual conflict. Sometimes also the name of citizen demands from us the tribute of fortitude. When you offer your blood to the State think that it is ours. In giving it our sons and our husbands we give more than ourselves. You can only die on the field of battle, but we have the misfortune to survive those whom we love most. Alas! while your ambitious vanity is unceasingly labouring to cover the earth with statues, with monuments, and with inscriptions to eternize, -if possible, your names, and give yourselves an existence, when this body is no more, why must we be condemned to live and to die unknown ? Would that the grave and eternal forgetfulness should be our lot. Be not our tyrants in all: Permit our names to be sometimes pronounced beyond the narrow circle in which we live : -Permit friendship, or at least love, to inscribe its em- blems on the tomb where our ashes repose ; and deny us not that public esteem which, after the esteem of one's self, is the sweetest reward of well doing."

All men, however, it must be owned, have not been equally unjust to their fair companions. In some countries public honours have been paid to women. Art has erected them monuments. Eloquence has celebrated their virtues, and History has collected whatever could adorn their character.

XIV. A Serious Thought.'

When I reflect on the horrid cruelties exercised by Britain in the East Indies — How thousands' perished by artificial famine — How religion and every manly principle of honour and honesty were sacrificed to luxury and pride — When I read of the wretched natives being blown away, for no other crime than because, sickened with the miserable scene, they refused to fight — When I reflect on these and a thousand instances of similar barbarity, I firmly believe that the Almighty, in compassion to mankind, will curtail the power of Britain.

And when I reflect on the use she hath made of the discovery of this new world — that the little paltry dignity of earthly kings hath been set up in preference to the great cause of the King of kings — That instead of Christian examples to the Indians, she hath basely tampered with their passions, imposed on their ignorance, and made them tools of treachery and murder — And when to these and many other melancholy reflections I add this sad remark, that ever since the discovery of America she hath employed herself in the most horrid of all traffics, that of human flesh, unknown to the most savage nations, hath yearly (without provocation and in cold blood) ravaged the hapless shores of Africa, robbing it of its unoffending inhabitants to cultivate her stolen dominions in the West — When I reflect on these, I hesitate not for a moment to believe that the Almighty
will finally separate America from Britain. Call it Independence or what you will, if it is the cause of God and humanity it will go on.

And when the Almighty shall have blest us, and made us a people dependent only upon Him, then may our first gratitude be shown by an act of continental legislation, which shall put a stop to the importation of Negroes for sale, soften the hard fate of those already here, and in time procure their freedom.

Humanus

XV.
