These are however but conjectures. Future discoveries may throw more light upon these subjects. At present, a few facts only can be collected to amuse a contemplativ mind, and perhaps lead to inquiries which will result in a satisfactory account of the first peopling of America, and of the few remains of antiquity which it affords.
NEW YORK, FEBRUARY, 1788.
On theREGULARITYof theCityofPHILADELPHIA.
"Well, how do you like Boston?" said an American to a Londoner, who had just arrived, and walked thro the town. "Extremely," replied the Englishman; "it resembles London in the crookedness and narrowness of the streets; I am always pleased with a careless irregularity and variety."
"How do you like Boston," says a nativ of the town to a Philadelphian. "I am much pleased with the people," replies the gentleman; "but the streets are so crooked, narrow and irregular, that I have good luck to find my way, and keep my stockings clean."
An Englishman and a Bostonian, walking together in Philadelphia, were heard to say, "how fatiguing it is to pass thro this town! such a sameness in the whole! no variety! when you have seen one street, you have seen the whole town!"
These remarks, which are heard every day, illustrate most strikingly the force of habit and tradition. The influence of habit is every where known and felt; any prepossessions therefore in favor of our nativ town, is not a matter of surprise. But that a traditionary remark or opinion should be handed from one generation to another, and lead nations into error, without a detection of its falsity, is a fact as astonishing as it is real. Such is the opinion of the writers on the fine arts; "that variety is pleasing;" an opinion embraced without exception, and applied promiscuously to the works of nature and of art. I have rarely met with a person, not an inhabitant of Philadelphia, who would not say he was disgusted with its regularity; and I am confident that the opinion must proceed from that commonplace remark,that variety is pleasing; otherwise men could not so unanimously condemn what constitutes itsgreatest beauty.
That in the productions of nature, variety constitutes a principal part of beauty, and a fruitful source of pleasure, will not be denied: But the beauty and agreeableness of works of art depend on another principle, viz.utility or convenience. Thedesignof the work, or the end proposed by it, must be attentivly considered before we are qualified to judge of itsbeauty.
This kind of beauty is called by Lord Kaim,[60]relativ beauty. He observes very justly, that "intrinsicbeauty is a perception of sense merely; for to perceive the beauty of a spreading oak, or of a flowing river, no more is required but singly an act of vision.Relativ beautyis accompanied with an act of understanding and reflection; for of a fine instrument or engine, we perceive not therelativbeauty, until we are made acquainted with its use and destination." A plow has not the leastintrinsicbeauty; but when we attend to itsuse, we are constrained to consider it as abeautiful instrument, and such a view of it furnishes us with agreeable sensations.
The single question therefore, with respect to a town or city, is this:Is it planned and constructed for the greatest possible convenience? If so, it is completely beautiful. If wide and regular streets are more useful and convenient than those that are narrow and crooked, then a city constructed upon a regular plan is the most beautiful, however uniform the streets in their directions and appearance.
I have often heard a comparison made between the level roads of Holland and the uniform streets of Philadelphia. Adull samenessis said to render both disagreeable. Yet if a person will attentivly consider the difference, I am persuaded he will be convinced that his taste is buthalf correct; that is, that a just remark with respect to a level open country, is improperly applied to a commercial city.Varietyin the works of nature ispleasing; but never in the productions of art, unless in copies of nature, or when that variety does not interfere withutility. A level champaign country is rarely convenient or useful; on the other hand, it is generally more barren than a country diversified with hills and vales. There is not generally any advantage to be derived from a wide extended plain; the principle ofutility, therefore does not oppose and supersede the taste for variety, and a tedioussamenessis left to have its full effect upon the mind of a spectator. This is the fact with respect to the roads in Holland.
But it is otherwise in a city, which is built for the express purpose of accommodating men in business. We do not consider it as we do a landscape, an imitation of a natural scene, and designed to please the eye; but we attend to its uses in artificial society, and if it appears to be calculated for the convenience of all classes of citizens, the plan and construction must certainly be beautiful, and afford us agreeable sensations.
The regularly built towns in America are Philadelphia, Charleston, in South Carolina, and New Haven. All these may be esteemed beautiful, tho not perfectly so. Philadelphia wants a public square or place of resort for men of business, with a spacious building for an exchange. This should be near Market street, in the center of business. The gardens at the State House are too small for a public walk in that large city. The whole line of bank houses[61]is the effect of ill timed parsimony. The houses are inconvenient, and therefore not pleasing to the eye; at the same time they render Water street too narrow.
But whatever faults may be found in the construction or plan of the city, its general appearance is agreeable, and itsregularityis its greatest beauty. Whenever I hear a person exclaim against the uniformity that pervades that city, I suppose him the dupe of a common place remark, or that he believes a city built merely to please the eye of a spectator.
Charlestonis situated upon low ground; but just above high water mark. The soil is sand, which, with a scarcity of stone, has prevented the streets from being paved. The plan of the city is regular, but some of the streets are too narrow. As it is almost surrounded with water and low marshy ground, it was necessary to attend to every circumstance that should contribute to preserve a pure air. For this purpose, it was the original design of the citizens, to prevent any buildings from being erected on the wharves, in front of the town; thus leaving a principal street, called the bay, open to the sea breezes. Since the revolution, this design has been partially dispensed with; and some buildings erected on the water side of the bay, and particularly one in front of the Exchange, which stands at the head of Broad street, and commands an extensiv view of the town on one side, and of the harbor on the other. Should stores and warehouses be raised on the wharves, to such a height as to intercept a view of the harbor from the bay, they would diminish the beauty of the town, and in some degree prevent the agreeable effect of the cool breezes from the sea.
New Havenwas laid out on a most beautiful plan, which has however suffered in the execution. The streets cross each other at right angles, as in Philadelphia; and divide the city into convenient squares. But in the center is a large public square, the sides of which are more than three hundred yards in length, and adorned with rows of trees. Thro the center of this square runs a line of elegant public buildings, viz. the state house, two churches and a school house. This square is a capital ornament to the town; but is liable to two exceptions. First, it is too large for the populousness of the city, which contains about 500 buildings. In so small a town, it must generally be empty, and consequently givs the town an appearance of solitude or dullness. In the second place, that half of the square which lies west of the public buildings, is occupied mostly by the church yard, which is enclosed with a circular fence. This reduces the public ground onthe opposit side to a paralellogram, which is a less beautiful figure than a square; and annihilates the beauty of the western division which it occupies.Notwithstandingthese circumstances, the green or public ground in the center of New Haven, renders it perhaps the most beautiful small settlement in America.
NEW YORK, MAY, 1788.
ADISSERTATIONconcerning theINFLUENCEofLANGUAGEonOPINIONS,and ofOPINIONSonLANGUAGE.[62]
The design of this dissertation is to show how far truth and accuracy of thinking are concerned in a clear understanding ofwords. I am sensible that in the eye of prejudice and ignorance, grammatical researches are the business of school boys; and hence we may deduce the reason why philosophers have generally been so inattentiv to this subject. But if it can be proved that themere use of wordshas led nations into error, and still continues the delusion, we cannot hesitate a moment to conclude, that grammatical enquiries are worthy of the labor ofmen.
The Greek name of the Supreme Being,Theos, is derived fromTheo, to run, or move one's self. Hence we discover the ideas which the Greeks originally entertained of God, viz. that he was thegreat principle of motion. The same word, it is said, was primarily appropriated to the stars, as moving bodies; and it is probable that, in the early ages of Greece, the heavenly bodies might be esteemed Deities, and denominatedTheoi, moving bodiesorprinciples. The Latin wordDeuswas used to denote those inferior beings which we callspiritsorangels, or perhapsone Godamong several. To giv the true idea ofDeusin French and English, the word should be renderedle Dieu, the God. This at least may be said of the word, in its trueoriginalsense; however it may have been used in the later ages of Rome.
The English wordGod, is merely the old Saxon adjectivgod, now spelt and pronouncedgood.
The GermanGottis from the same root. The wordsGodandgoodtherefore are synonimous. The derivation of the word leads us to the notions which our ancestors entertained of the Supreme Being; supposing him to be the principle or author of good, they called him, by way of eminence,Good, orthe Good. By long use and the progress of knowlege, the word is become the name of the great Creator, and we have added to it ideas of other attributes, as justice, power, immutability, &c. Had our heathen ancestors entertained different ideas of the Deity; had they, for instance, supposed justice to have been his leading attribute, if I may use the term, they would have called himthe just; and this appellation, by being uniformly appropriated to a certain invisible being, or supposed cause of certain events, would in time have lost the articlethe, andjustwould have become thenameof the Deity. Such is the influence of opinion in the formation of language.
Let us now compare the names of the Deity in the three languages; the Greek,Theos, denoting amoving being, or theprinciple of action, evinces to us that the Greeks gave the name to thecause of events, without having very clear ideas of the nature or attributes of that cause. They supposed the great operations of nature to have each its cause; and hence the plurality of causes,theoi, or moving principles.
The Romans borrowed the same word,Deus, and used it to denote the celestialagentsorgodswhich they supposed to exist, and to superintend the affairs of the universe.
Our northern ancestors had an idea that all favorable events must have an efficient cause; and to this cause they gave the name ofGodorgood. Hence we observe that the English and German wordsGodandGotdo not convey precisely the same idea, as theTheosandDeusof the Greeks and Romans. The former cannot be used in the plural number; as they are thenames of a single indivisible being; the latter were used as names common to a number of beings.
The wordDemon, in Greek, was used to signify subordinate deities, both good and evil. The Jews, who had more perfect ideas of the Supreme Being, supposed there could be but one good Deity, and consequently that all thedemonsof the Greeks must beevilbeings ordevils. In this sense alone they used the word, and this restricted sense has been communicated thro Christian countries in modern ages. The opinion of the Jews, therefore, has had a material effect upon language, and would lead us into an error respecting the Greek mythology; unless we should trace the worddemonto its primitiv signification.
The worddevil, in English, is merely a corruption ofthe evil, occasioned by a rapid pronunciation. This will not appear improbable to those who know, that in some of the Saxon dialects, the character which we writethis almost invariably written and pronouncedd. Hence we learn, the notion which our ancestors entertained of thecause of evil, or of unfortunate events. They probably ascribed such events to a malignant principle, or being, which they called, by way of eminence,the evil; and these words, corrupted by common use, have given name to the being or principle.
I would only observe here that the etymology of these two words,Godanddevil, proves that the Manichean doctrine of agoodandevilprinciple prevailed among our northern ancestors. It has prevailed over most of the eastern countries in all ages, and Christianity admits the doctrine, with this improvement only, that it supposes theevilprinciple to be subordinate to thegood. The supreme cause of events, Christians believe to begoodorGod, for the words are radically the same; thecause of evilthey believe to be subordinate; yet, strange as it may seem, they suppose thesubordinate evilprinciple to be the most prevalent.
We are informed by Ludolph, that the Ethiopeans, having but one word fornatureandperson, could not understand the controversy about Christ's two natures.This is not surprising; nations, in a savage state, or which have not been accustomed to metaphysical disquisitions, have no terms to communicate abstract ideas, which they never entertained; and hence the absurdity of attempting to christianize savages. Before men can be Christians they must be civilized; nay, they must be philosophers. It is probable that many who are called Christians, are in the state of the Ethiopians, with respect to the same doctrin; and that they pass thro life, without ever having any clear ideas of the different natures of Christ. Yet the distinction is constantly made in words; and that distinction passes for a difference of ideas. Such is the influence of language on opinion.
The wordssoul,mindandspirit, are constantly used by people, and probably the difference of words has given rise to an opinion that there is an actual difference of things. Yet I very much question whether the persons who use these words every day, annex any distinct ideas to them; or if they do, whether they could explain the difference.
The Greeks believed in the doctrin of transmigration. They had observed the metamorphosis of the caterpillar, and supposing the same soul to animate the different bodies, and believing the soul to be perpetual or immortal, they made the butterfly the hieroglyphic of the soul: Hence the Greek word for soul,psuke, came to signify also abutterfly.
For want of attending to the true etymology of the wordglory, false opinions have gained an establishment in the world, and it may be hazardous to dispute them. It is said that thegloryof God does not depend on his creatures, and that the glory of the good man depends not on the opinion of others. But what is glory? The Greek worddoxeexplains it. It is derived fromdokeo, to think; and signifies thegood opinion of others. This is itstrueoriginal meaning; a man's glory therefore consists in having the good opinion of men, and this cannot generally be obtained, but by meritorious actions. Thegloryof God consists in the exalted ideaswhich his creatures entertain of his being and perfections. Hisglorytherefore dependswholly on his creatures. The word is indeed often used to signify the greatness, splendor or excellence of the divine character. In this sense thedivine glorymay be independent of created beings; but it is not the primitiv sense of the word, nor the sense which answers to the original meaning of the Greekdoxe, and the Latingloria.
No right in England and America is so much celebrated as that oftrial by peers; by which is commonly understood,trial by equals. The right is valuable, but is not derived from the primitiv custom oftrial by equals; on the contrary, it is very questionable whether such a custom existed prior to Alfred. Yet thetrial by peersexisted long before, and can be traced back to the date of the Christian era. The truth is, the wordpeeris not derived from the Latinpar, equal; but from the German, or Teutonicbarorpar, which signified a landholder, freeman or judge. Thebarswere that class of men who held thefeesor property in estates; and from whom the wordbaronand the attendant privileges are derived. We have the same root inbaron,baronet,parliament,parish, and many other words, all implying some degree of authority, eminence or jurisdiction. From the same wordbarorpar, (forBandPare convertible letters) the wordpeeris derived, as it is used in the common expressionshouse of peers,trial by peers. It signified originally, notequals, butjudgesor barons. Thehouse of peersin England derives its appellation and its jurisdiction from the ancient mode of trial bybarsor barons; for it is the final resort in all judicial cases. Yet the ancient English lawyers, supposing the word to be from the Latinpar, equal, have explained it in that sense, and multiplied encomiums without end upon the excellence of the privilege. The privilege is valuable, but its excellence, if it consists in atrial by equals, is modern, compared with the original custom, which was atrial by barons, or principal landholders.
It is probable that our modern writers, misunderstanding the termvoluptas, have passed too severe censures upon epicures. The true primitiv meaning ofvoluptaswas that ofpleasurable sensationsarising from innocent gratifications. Our modern wordvoluptuousnesscarries with it a much stronger idea, and hence we are led into an error reflecting the doctrine of Epicurus, who might confine his ideas of pleasure to innocent gratifications.
We have been accustomed from childhood to hear the expressions,the dew falls;the dews of heaven; and it is probable that nine people out of ten, have never suspected the inaccuracy of the phrases. Butdewis merely the perspiration of the earth; itrisesinstead offalling, and rises during the night.[63]
It was also supposed thatmannain the eastern countries, came from above, and it is called in scripturebread from heaven. Yetmannais a gum, exuding from plants, trees and bushes, when pierced by certain insects. The truth of this fact was not discovered, till the middle of the sixteenth century.
Every man knows, when the prices of goods rise, it is said they becomedear; yet when the prices rise in consequence of an overflowing sum of money in circulation, the fact is that thevalue of money falls, and the value of goods remains the same. This erroneous opinion had an amazing effect in raising popular clamor, at the commencement of the late revolution.
I will name but one other instance, which has a material influence upon our moral and religious opinions. It is said in scripture thatGod hardened Pharaoh's heart. How? Was there a miracle in the case? By no means. The manner of speaking leads us into the mistake. The first cause is mentioned, and not the intermediate cause or causes. So we should say, thatGeneral Washington attacked the British troops at Monmouth; altho he was at a great distance when the attack was commenced, and onlyorderedthe attack. I suspect that similar modes of speaking in scripture often lead superficial minds into mistakes, and in some instances, giv occasion to infidels to scoff at passages, which, if rightly understood, would silence all objections.
This is a fruitful theme, and would lead an ingenious inquirer into a wide field of investigation. But I have neither time nor talents to do it justice; the few hints here suggested may have some effect in convincing my readers of the importance and utility of all candid researches into the origin and structure of speech; and pave the way for further investigations, which may assist us in correcting our ideas and ascertaining the force and beauty of our own language.
PHILADELPHIA, 1787.
OnVOCAL MUSIC.
The establishment of schools for teaching psalmody in this city is a pleasing institution; but people seem not to understand the design, or rather are not aware of the advantages which may result from it, if properly conducted and encouraged. Most people consider music merely as a source of pleasure; not attending to its influence on the human mind, and its consequent effects on society. But it should be regarded as an article of education,usefulas well as ornamental.
The human mind is formed for activity; and will ever be employed in business or diversions. Children are perpetually in motion, and all the ingenuity of their parents and guardians should be exerted to devise methods for restraining this activ principle, and directing it to someusefulobject, or toharmless trifles. If this is not done, their propensity to action, even without a vicious motiv, will hurry them into follies and crimes. Every thing innocent, that attracts the attention of children, and will employ their minds in leisure hours, when idleness might otherwise open the way to vice, must be considered as a valuable employment. Of this kind is vocal music. There were instances of youth, the last winter, who voluntarily attended a singing school in preference to the theatre. It is but reasonable to suppose, that if they would neglect a theatre for singing, they would neglect a thousand amusements, less engaging, and more pernicious.
Instrumental music is generally prefered to vocal, and considered as an elegant accomplishment. It is indeed a pleasing accomplishment; but the preference given to it, is a species of the same false taste, which places a son under the tuition of adrunken clown, to make him a gentleman ofstrict morals.
Instrumental music may exceed vocal in some nice touches and distinctions of sound; but when regarded as to its effects upon the mind and upon society, it is as inferior to vocal, as sound is inferior to sense. It is very easy for a spruce beau to display a contempt for vocal music, and to say that human invention has gone beyond the works of God Almighty. But till the system of creation shall be new modelled, the human voice properly cultivated will be capable of making the most perfect music. It is neglected; sol faing is unfashionable, and that is enough to damn it: But people who have not been acquainted with the perfection of psalmody, are incapable of making a suitable comparison between vocal and instrumental music. I have often heard the best vocal concerts in America, and the best instrumental concerts; and can declare, that the music of the latter is as inferior to that of the former, as the merit of aband box macaroniis to that of a Cato.
Instrumental music affords an agreeable amusement; and as an amusement it ought to be cultivated. But the advantage is private and limited; it pleases the ear, but leaves no impression upon the heart.
The design of music is to awaken the passions, to soften the heart for the reception of sentiment. To awaken passion is within the power of instruments, and this may afford a temporary pleasure; but society derives no advantage from it, unless some useful sentiment is left upon the heart.
Instruments are secondary in their use; they were invented originally, not to supercede, but to assist the voice. The first histories of all nations were written in verse, and sung by their bards. In later ages, theoaten reed, theharpand thelyre, were found to improve the pleasures of music; but the neglect of the voice and of sentiment was reserved for modern corruption. Ignorant indeed is the man, and possessed of a wretched taste, who can seriously despise the humble pleasures of vocal music, and prefer the bare harmony of sounds. Sentiment should ever accompany music; the sounds should ever correspond with the ideas, otherwise musicloses all its force. Union of sentiment, with harmony of sounds, is the perfection of music. Every string of the human heart may be touched; every passion roused by the different kinds of sounds; the courage of the warrior; the cruelty of the tyrant; anger; grief; love, with all its sensibilities, are subject to the influence of music. Even brutes acknowlege its effects; but while they in common with man feel the effects of a harmony of mere sounds, man enjoys the superior felicity of receiving sentiment; and while he relishes the pleasures of chords in sound, he imbibes a disposition to communicate happiness to society.
Seldom indeed do men reflect on the connexion between the chords of music and the social affections. Morality is to immorality, what harmony is to discord. Society detests vice, and the ear is offended with discordant sounds. Society is pleased and happified with virtue, and the ear is delighted with harmony. This beautiful analogy points out the utility of cultivating music as a science. Harsh discordant sounds excite the peevish malevolent passions; harmonious sounds correct and soften the rougher passions.
Every person will acknowlege, that love refines the heart, and renders it more susceptible, and more capable of social virtue. It is for this reason that men who have particular attachments to women, or associate much with ladies of delicacy, are more disposed to do acts of kindness, in every sphere of life, than those who seldom frequent ladies company. On the other hand, anger, jealousy, envy, are dissocial passions; and even when they are excited by a single object, they poison the heart, and disqualify it for exciting the social affections towards any of the human race. Every institution, therefore, calculated to prepare the human heart for exerting the social virtues, and to suppress or check the malignant passions, must be highly beneficial to society; and such I consider establishments in favor of vocal music. Happy, indeed, should I feel, could I see youth devoted every where to the refinement of their voices and morals; to see them prefer moral or religiouspieces to the indecent songs or low diversions which taint the mind in early life, and diffuse their pernicious influence through society.
If the poison of the tarantula may be counteracted by music; if the Spanish ladies are won by nocturnal serenades; if the soldier is inspired with courage by the martial sounds of the trumpet, and the Christian impressed with devout sentiments by the solemn tones of the organ; what advantage may society derive from the softening harmony of choirs of voices, celebrating the praises of social virtue! Happy days! whenfalse tasteandfalse opinionsshall vanish before the progress oftruth; when princes shall resume their ancient and honorable task of teaching the young to begoodandgreat; when an Addison shall be preferred to a Chesterfield; when the wealth of nations shall be no longer lavished upon fiddlers and dancers; when the characters of aBenezetand aWashingtonshall obscure the glories of a Cæsar; and when no man shall be ashamed to begood, because it is unfashionable.
NEW YORK, JUNE, 1788.
OnMORALITY.
"The principles of morality are little understood among savages," says Lord Kaimes, "and if they arrive to maturity among enlightened nations, it is by slow degrees."
With submission to that writer, I would advance another position equally true, "that the principles of eating and drinking are little understood by savages, and if they arrive to maturity among civilized nations, it is by slow degrees."
The truth is, morality consists in discharging the social duties of life; and so far as the state of savages requires an intercourse of duties, the moral principles seem to be as perfect in them as in more enlightened nations. Savages in a perfectly rude state have little or no commerce; the transactions between man and man are confined to very few objects, and consequently the laws which regulate their intercourse and distribute justice, must be few and simple.[64]But the crime of murder is as severely punished by savages, as by civilized nations. Nay, I question whether it is possible to name the barbarous tribe, which suffers an individual to take the life of another, upon as easy terms as the modern feudal Barons in Europe may do that of a vassal; or with the same impunity that a planter in the West Indies takes the life of a slave. I speak of a time of peace, and of the conduct of savages towards their own tribes. As to war, every nation of savages has itsarbitrary customs, and so has every civilized nation. Savages are generally partial and capricious in the treatment of their prisoners; some they treat with a singular humanity; and others they put to death with the severest cruelty. Well, do not civilized people the same? Did a savage ever endure greater torments, than thousands of prisoners during the late war? But not to mention the practice of a single nation, at a single period; let us advert to a general rule among civilized nations; that it is lawful to put to death prisoners taken in a garrison by storm. The practice grounded on this rule, is as direct and as enormous a violation of the laws of morality, as the slow deliberate tortures exercised by the most barbarous savages on earth.
Well, what are the ideas of savages respectingtheft? How do they differ from those of an enlightened people? Many things are possessed in common, as provisions taken in hunting, corn, &c. Ferdinand de Soto relates, that the tribes (and he visited hundreds in Florida) had public granaries of corn laid up for winter, which was distributed by authority to each family, according to its number. But for an individual to take from this common stock without license, was considered as a criminal defrauding of the public. And with regard to the few articles, in which individuals acquire private property, the savages have as correct ideas ofmeumandtuum, of theft, trespass, &c. and are as careful to guard private property from invasion, by laws and penalties, as any civilized people. The laws of the Creeks, the Cherokees, the Six Nations, &c. with regard to these and many other crimes, in point of reason and equity, stand on a footing with those of the most civilized nations; and in point of execution and observance, their administration would do honor to any government. Among most savage nations there is a kind of monarchy which is efficient in administration; and among those tribes which have had no intercourse with civilized nations, and which have not been deceived by the tricks of traders; the common arts of cheating, by which millions of enlightened people geta living or a fortune, are wholly unknown. This is an incontrovertible fact. I lately became acquainted with a lad of about twelve years old, who was taken captiv by the Indians in 1778, while a child, and had continued with them till about ten years old. He had no recollection of the time when he was taken, and consequently his mind could not have been corrupted among the English. When he was restored, agreeable to the treaty, he was a perfect savage; but what I relate the circumstance for, is this; the lad was not addicted to a single vice. He was instant and cheerful in obeying commands; having not even a disposition to refuse or evade a compliance. He had no inclination to lie or steal; on the other hand, he was always surprised to find a person saying one thing and meaning another. In short, he knew not any thing but honesty and undisguised frankness and integrity. A single instance does not indeed establish a general rule; but those who are acquainted with the nativs of America can testify that this is the general character of savages who are not corrupted by the vices of civilized nations.
But it is said savages are revengeful; their hatred is hereditary and perpetual. How does this differ from the hatred of civilized nations? I question much whether the principle of revenge is not as perfect in enlightened nations, as in savages. The difference is this; a savage hunts the man who has offended him, like a wild beast, and assassinates him wherever he finds him; thegentlemanpursues his enemy or his rival with as much rancor as a savage, and even stoops to notice little affronts, that a savage would overlook; but he does not stab him privately; he hazards his own life with that of his enemy, and one or both are veryhonorablymurdered. The principle of revenge is equally activ in both cases; but its operation is regulated by certain arbitrary customs. A savage is open and avows his revenge, and kills privately; the polite and well bred take revenge in a morehonorableway, whenlifeis to be the price of satisfaction; but in cases of small affronts, they are content with privately stabbing thereputation or ruining the fortunes of their enemies. In short, the passions of a savage are under no restraint; the passions of enlightened people are restrained and regulated by a thousand civil laws and accidental circumstances of society.
But it will be objected, if savages understood principles of morality, they would lay such passions under restraint. Not at all: Civil and political regulations are not made, because the things prohibited are in their own nature wrong; but because they produce inconveniencies to society. The most enlightened nations do not found their laws and penalties on an abstract regard towrong; nor has government any concern with that which has no influence on the peace and safety of society. If savages, therefore, leave every man to take his own revenge, it is a proof that they judge it the best mode of preventing the necessity of it; that is, they think their society and government safer under such a license, than under regulations which should control the passions of individuals. They may have their ideas of the nature of revenge independent of society; but it will be extremely difficult to prove, that, abstracted from a regard to a Deity and to society, there is such a thing asrightandwrong. I considermoralitymerely as it respectssociety; for if we superadd the obligations of a divine command, we blend it withreligion; an article in which Christians have an infinit advantage over savages.
Considering moral duties as founded solely on the constitution of society, and as having for their sole end the happiness of social beings, many of them will vary in their nature and extent, according to the particular state and circumstances of any society.
Among the ancient Britons, a singular custom prevailed; which was, a community of wives by common consent. Every man married one woman; but a number, perhaps ten or twelve, relations or neighbors, agreed to possess their wives in common. Every woman's children were accounted the children of her husband; but every man had a share in the common defenceand care of this little community.[65]Was this any breach of morality? Not in the least. A British woman, in the time of Severus, having become intimate with Julia Augusta, and other ladies, at the court of Rome, had observed what passed behind the curtain; and being one day reproached for this custom of the Britons, as infamous in the women, and barbarous in the men; she replied, "We do thatopenlywith thebestof our men, which you doprivatelywith theworstof yours." This custom, so far from being infamous or barbarous, originated in public and private convenience. It prevented jealousy and the injuries of adultery, in a state where private wrongs could not easily be prevented or redressed. It might be an excellent substitute for penal laws and a regular administration of justice. But there is a better reason for the custom, which writers seem to have overlooked; and this is, that a community multiplied the chances of subsistence and security. In a savage life, subsistence is precarious, for it depends on contingent supplies by hunting and fishing. If every individual, therefore, should depend solely on his own good luck, and fail of success, his family must starve. But in a community of twelve, the probability that some one would procure provisions is increased as twelve to one. Hence the community of provisions among most savage nations.[66]
The Britons, when the Romans first visited their island, did not attend much to the cultivation of the earth. "Interiores plerique," says Cæsar, "frumentanon serunt, sed lacte et carne vivunt." By establishing a community of goods, they secured themselves against the hazard of want; and by a community of wives and offspring, they confirmed the obligations of each to superintend the whole; or rather, changed into a natural obligation what might otherwise depend on the feebler force of positiv compact. Besides, it is very possible that personal safety from the invasion of tribes or individuals, might be another motiv for establishing these singular communities. At any rate, we must suppose that the Britons had good civil or political reasons for this custom; for even savages do not act without reason. And if they found society more safe and happy, with such a custom than without it, it was most undoubtedly right.
Should it be said, that a community is prohibited by divine command; I would answer that it is not presumable that the old Britons had any positiv revelation; and I do not know that the law of nature will decide against their practice. The commands given to the Jews were positiv injunctions; but they by no means extend to all nations, farther than as they are founded onimmutable principlesof right and wrong in all societies. Many of the Mosaic precepts are of this kind; they are unlimited in their extent, because they stand on principles which are unlimited in their operation.
Adultery is forbidden in the Jewish laws; and so it is in the codes of other nations. But adultery may be defined differently by different nations; and the criminality of it depends on the particular positiv institutions, or accidental circumstances of a nation. The same reasons that would render a similar custom in civilized modern nations highly criminal, might render it innocent and even necessary among the old Britons. A prohibition to gather sticks on the Sabbath, under a penalty of death for disobedience, might be founded on good reasons among the ancient Jews; but it would be hard to prove that a modern law of the same kind, would be warrantable in any nation.
NEW YORK, JUNE, 1788.
ALETTERfrom aLADY,withREMARKS.
sir,
As you have, in your writings, discovered that you take a particular interest in the happiness of ladies, I hope you will not deem it a deviation from delicacy, if one of them offers you her grateful acknowlegements, and requests you to giv your sentiments upon what will be here related.
About four years ago, I was visited by a gentleman who professed an unalterable attachment for me. He being a genteel, sensible and handsome man, I thought myself justifiable in treating him with complacency. After I was convinced by his constant attention and frequent professions, that I was a favorite, he used frequently to upbraid me, for being so silent and reserved: It shewed, he said, a want of confidence in him; for I must be sensible he derived the greatest pleasure imaginable in my conversation, and why would I then deprive him of the greatest happiness by absenting myself, when he paid a visit, refusing to chat with my usual freedom. Tho he professed himself to be an admirer of candor, and a strict adherer to the rules of honor, still I could not but doubt his sincerity from the extravagance of his expressions. This he considered as an affront, saying that no man ofhonorwould express sentiments that were not genuine. I found myself unwilling to say any thing that should be disagreeable, and disposed to make him understand by an attention that I supposed him entitled to, that he was prefered to any other person. He continued his visits in this manner for about eighteen months, conducting himself with the greatest delicacy, affection and respect. During this time, henever expressed a wish to be united, which made me uneasy, as I knew that all my friends thought us engaged. At last I told him his attention was too particular; I knew not what construction to put upon it. He replied that I was too particular in my ideas; it was a convincing proof to him, with my resentingtrifling liberties, that I had not an affection for him, and that he was not the man I wished to be connected with; therefore he would not trouble me any longer with his company, and wished me a good night.
This, Sir, you must suppose, distressed me greatly; I viewed myself injured and trifled with, but knew not how to obtain redress. My attachment and pride were so great that I would not allow my friends to call him to an account for his behavior; tho I now despise his conduct, and would refuse him the hand of which he has proved himself unworthy, still I feel hurt at the treatment I have received. You, Sir, as a friend to our sex, and one who wishes to preserve the peace of mind of unsuspecting girls, will do them an essential service, by your animadversions on these facts, and guarding our sex from similar impositions.
These circumstances would not have been related, were I not rendered discontented and wretched at home, in consequence of refusing the offers of three other gentlemen; either of whom would doubtless have been acceptable, had not my affections been preengaged to one who has proved himself worthless. Their characters and situations in life are equal to my wishes; but I cannot do them so much injustice and myself so much injury, as to giv my hand unaccompanied with my heart. In consulting my own inclinations I have incurred the displeasure of all my family; they treat me with great inattention, and are continually reflecting on my want of spirit and resolution. I am confident, Sir, that every generous mind will pity your unhappy and distressed friend,
CONSTANTIA.
ToCONSTANTIA.
While I acknowlege myself honored by your correspondence, and happy in an opportunity of rendering you or your sex the least service, permit me, in compliance with your request, which shall be to me a sacred law, to offer my sentiments with a frankness, corresponding with that which marks the relation of your misfortunes. For altho I feel the warmest indignation at every species of deception, and particularly at that long continued inexplicitness which isdeliberate deception, and which is the cause of your wretchedness, candor and truth require that censure should fall where it is due.
If the slightest blame can fall on you, it is that you indulged the visits of a gentleman foreighteen months without an explicit and honorable declaration of his intention. Adelicate,affectionateandrespectfulattention to a lady, for one quarter of that period, is sufficient to make an impression on her mind, and decide her choice: At the same time, it might not render an attachment on her part, so strong as to make a separation very painful; it might not giv the world an opinion that an engagement exists, or subject the lady to the necessity of dismissing other suitors. It is therefore prudent at least for a lady to conduct herself in such a manner as to bring her admirer to an explicit declaration of his designs. A man ofreal honorand principle would not wait for a stratagem on the part of the lady, or for a frank demand of an explanation of his conduct. A tolerable acquaintance with the human heart would enable him to discover when a declaration would beagreeableto the lady, and after this discovery, he would not keep her a moment in suspense. A man of generous feelings, who has a lively attachment, looks with anxiety for some proof that his addresses are agreeable, and that a declaration of his intentions will be well received. No sooner does he find this proof, than he hastens to unbosom himself to the dear object of his wishes,and communicate the happiness he so ardently desires to receive. When therefore a man neglects such a declaration, after he has had convincing proofs that his offers would be well received, it may and should be taken for granted that his intentions are not honorable, and the lady should treat him accordingly. If therefore, my unhappy friend, you deserve the least degree of censure, it is because you delayed too long to take measures for undeceiving yourself. Yet this delay is a proof of your unsuspecting confidence and sincere attachment; and faults, proceeding from such amiable causes, are almost changed to virtues; in your sex, they entitle the sufferer to forgivness and to love.
You inform me, Constantia, that the man who has injured you, professed toadhere to the rules of honor. Never, Constantia, trust a man who deals largely in thathackneyedvirtue,honor.Honor, in the fashionable sense of the word, is but another name forvillany. Theman of honorwould not be guilty of the least impropriety in public company; he would not for the world neglect the least punctilio of the customary etiquette, but he would, without hesitation or remorse, blow out the brains of a friend, for treading on his toe, or rob an amiable woman of her reputation and happiness to gratify his vanity.
If a man talks too much of hishonor, he is to be avoided, like the midnight ruffian. He that really possesses a virtue never boasts of it, for he does not suspect the world think him destitute of it. Numerous professions are commonly mere substitutes for what is professed.
The man, who has given you so much uneasiness, never deserved the confidence he won; he must be destitute of principle, of virtue, and of attachment to you. His deliberate ill usage proves him to be callous to every tender emotion, and to deserve your contempt. Will not a generous pride and detestation expel the least sentiment of respect for him from your breast? Can you not forget that you have been misled, and will not your innocence buoy you above misfortunes? Thatyou have refused good offers, is to be regretted; but your friends, if they know the reason, as they ought, will not pain you by disingenuous reflections. On the other hand, they will assist you in finding objects to amuse you and dissipate your own melancholy reflections. Smile away the anxiety that shuts your heart against other impressions. Base as men are, there may be some found who despise the character of him who has given even an hour's pain; there may be one who knowsyourworth, and may be disposed to reward yourconstancy.
It is a mortifying reflection to an honest mind, thatbadhearts are so often suffered to giv pain to thegood; that thetriflingand thebaseof our sex are not constrained, by necessity, to associate only with thetriflingand thebaseof yours, and that the good, the generous and the constant should be exposed to the abuses of the fickle and designing. But such is the constitution of society, and for the evils of it, we have no remedy, but cautious circumspection to prevent, or patient fortitude to support the adverse events of our conditions.
No man can entertain a more cordial detestation of the smallest disposition to annoy the peace of mind and disturb the tranquillity of mankind, than myself; the design of existence here is to sooth the evils, and multiply the felicities of each other, and he must be a villain indeed, who can deliberately attempt to poison the sources of pleasure, by crossing and disappointing the social passions.
To your sex, Constantia, permit me to giv a word of caution; never to make any inquiries about a man's family, fortune or accomplishments, till you know whether he is a man ofprinciple. Byprinciple, I mean, a disposition of heart to conduct with strict propriety, both as a moral being and as a member of civil society; that is, a disposition to increase the happiness of all around him. If he appears to wish for his own gratification, at the expense even of a servant's happiness, he is an unsocial being, he is not a fit associate for men, much less for amiable women. If he is a man ofprinciple, then proceed to inquire into his standing in life.Withprinciple he may make a woman happy in almost any circumstances;withoutit,birth,fortuneandeducationserve but to render his worthlessness the more conspicuous. With sentiments of esteem, I am your obliged friend, and humble servant,
E.
NEW YORK, JULY, 1788.
ALETTERto theAUTHOR,withREMARKS.
sir,
I beg leave to relate to you a few circumstances respecting the conduct of a young friend of mine in this city, and to request your own remarks and advice on the occasion. Should any other person similarly situated, be disposed to receive benefit from the advice, I shall be much gratified, and my design more than answered.
This young friend to whom I allude, has been till within a few years, under the watchful eyes of very attentiv parents; from whom he received much better advice and much more of it, than the generality of parents in this city are wont to bestow on their children; they taught him to regard truth with a steady attachment; in short his education, till their deaths, was such as might with propriety have been called rigidly virtuous. Since that instructiv period, he has been under the guidance of no one but himself; his former associates with whom he grew up, and for whom he still feels a degree of schoolmate attachment, are almost universally debauched characters. The force of example is great, and let it be mentioned to his honor, that in general he has had sufficient virtue to resist their importunities, and to follow a line of conduct directly contrary to the one they would gladly have marked out for his pursuance. He possesses many of the social virtues, and is warmly attached to the amiable part of the female world. This attachment has preserved him from the fashionable vices of the age, and given him a relish for domestic happiness, which I think he will never lose. A young gentleman so capable of makinghimself agreeable to good and virtuous characters, ought not, in my opinion, to indulge himself in any practices, that shall tend in the least to depreciate his general merit. The practices I would mention, are few and not very considerable; still I think he should dismiss them entirely, or at least not indulge them to his disadvantage. He sings agood song, and he knows it tolerably well; he is often urged into company on that account; he can make himself agreeable withal, and is really amusical companion; he pays so much attention tolearningandsinging songs, that he has but little leisure time on his hands; he reads part of the day, but he reads principallynovelsorsong books. I would not be understood to considersinging songsas criminal; far from it; I am often delighted with a song from him; but the query with me is, whether he ought not to devote part of the time which he now employs about what may be called genteel trifling, to the improvement of his mind in a manner that may be of lasting benefit to him; I wish you to giv him your advice, and direct him what books to read. He has anotherfault, which, altho it originates in the benevolence of his disposition, may still be called a fault. He has a very susceptible heart, and opens it with a generous freedom, so much so that he sometimes forgets himself, and opens it where he ought not to do. A stranger with a specious outside might easily impose on him. I just throw out these hints, that he may be on his guard against those whose business it is to deceive. There are several smaller faults dependant upon, or rather consequent to, those I have mentioned, which I at first intended to have enumerated, but if the first are amended, the others will forsake him of course.
TheANSWER.
sir,
By the description you have given of your young friend, it appears that he is rathertriflingandinconsideratethanprofligate. His faults are,his spending toomuch time in learning and singing songs; and toomuch frankness of heart, which exposes him to impositions. But you have not, Sir, informed me whether he wasbred to business; and by his character, I judge that he was not. He has had good precepts indeed; but of how little weight are precepts to young people! Advice to the young sometimes does good; but perhaps never, except good habits have been previously formed by correct discipline in manners, or by a mechanical attention to honest employments. The truth is, advice or serious council is commonly lavished where it does no good, upon the young, the gay, the thoughtless; whose passions are strong, before reason begins to have the smallest influence. I am young myself, but from the observations I have hitherto made, I venture to affirm, that grave advice never yet conquered a passion, and rarely has restrained one so as to render a sprightly youth, in any degree serious. How should it? Instructions are transient; they seldom touch the heart, and they generally oppose passions that are vigorous, and which are incessantly urging for indulgence.
I have ever thought that advice to the young, unaccompanied by the routine of honest employments, is like an attempt to make a shrub grow in a certain direction, by blowing it with a bellows. The way to regulate the growth of a vegetable is toconfineit to the proposed direction. The only effectual method perhaps is to keep young persons from childhood busy in some employment of use and reputation. It is very immaterial what that employment is; the mind will grow in the direction given it at first; it will bend and attach itself to the business, and will not easily lose that bent or attachment afterwards: The mindwillattach itself to something; its natural disposition is to pleasure and amusement. This disposition may be changed or overcome by keeping the mind, from early life, busy in some useful occupation, and perhaps bynothing else. Advice will not produce the effect.
I suspect, Sir, that your young friend has been bred a trifler; that he has had money to support him withoutthe labor of acquiring it; that he has never been anxious about his future subsistence. If so, his education must be pronounced erroneous. Whether worth twenty pounds or twenty thousand, it should make no difference in his attention to business while young. We are the creatures of habit; a habit ofacquiringproperty should always precede theuseof it, otherwise it will not be used with credit and advantage. Besides, business is almost the only security we have for moral rectitude and for consequence in society. It keeps a young person out of vicious company; it operates as a constant check upon the passions, and while it does not destroy them, it restrains their intemperance; it strengthens the mind by exercise, and puts a young person upon exerting his reasoning faculties. In short, a man bred to business loves society, and feels the importance of the principles that support it. On the other hand, mankind respect him; and whatever your young friend may think of the assertion, it is true that the ladies uniformly despise a man who is always dangling at their apron strings, and whose principal excellence consists in singing a good song.
If, Sir, your friend is still so young, as to undergo the discipline of a professional or other employment, his habits of trifling may be changed by this means; but if he is so far the gentleman as to disdain business, his friends have only to whistle advice in his ears, and wait till old age, experience, and the death of his passions, shall change the man.
Accept of my thanks, Sir, for this communication, and be assured that my opinion on any subject of this kind will always be at your service.
E.
BOSTON, MARCH, 1789.
AnEnquiryinto theOriginof theWordsDOMESDAY, PARISH, PARLIAMENT, PEER, BARON;withRemarks, NewandInteresting.
In the course of my etymological investigations, I hav been led to suspect that all the writers on the laws and constitution of England, hav mistaken the origin and primitiv signification of several words of high antiquity, and in consequence of the mistake, hav adopted some erroneous opinions, respecting the history of parliaments and trial by peers. Whether my own opinions are wel supported by history and etymology, must be hereafter decided by able and impartial judges of this subject.
Dome book, ordomesday book, iz a word wel understood by English lawyers.Dome book, ordom bec, az it waz formerly spelt, waz the name given to the Saxon code of laws compiled by Alfred. Some other codes of local customs or laws were also denominateddom becs, but theze are all lost. After the conquest, a general survey of all the lands in England, except a few counties, waz made by order of William, and recorded in a volum which iz stil extant, and calleddomesday. This survey waz begun by five justices assigned for the purpose in each county, in the year 1081 and completed 1086.
Our pious ancestors were not a little frightened at the name of this book, which iz usually pronounceddoomsday; supposing it to hav some reference to the final doom, or day of judgement. In order to quiet such apprehensions, lawyers of less credulity undertook to refute the common opinion. Jacob, after Cowel, very gravely asserts, that the terminationdayin this word does not allude to the general judgement. "Theaddition ofdayto this dome book, waz not ment with any allusion to the final day of judgement, azmost persons hav conceeved, but waz to strengthen and confirm it, and signifieth the judicial decisiv record, or book ofdoomingjudgement and justice."[67]The same author definesdomesmento bejudges, or men appointed todoom.
Cowel, a compiler of considerable authority, says, "day or dey," (fordeyiz the true spelling) "does not augment the sense, but only doubles and confirms the same meening. It does not, in this composition, really signify the mesure of time, but the administration of justice; so thatdomesdayiz more emphatically the judicial decisiv record, the book ofdoomingjudgement."[68]According to this author, then,domesdayiza judgement of judgements, for he quotes Dr. Hammond to proov thatday,dies, ημερα, in all idioms, signifies judgement. However tru this may be, I beleev our Saxon forefathers could find a better name for a code of laws, thana judgement of judgements.
"Domesday," says Coke, "dies judicii," day of judgement.[69]Such is the influence of sounds upon credulous, superstitious minds.
The truth seems to be this;domesdayis a compound ofdom, judgement, decree or authority; anddey, a law or rule.[70]Ordomes, in the plural, may signifyjudges. The name of the book then will signify, etherthe rules of judging, ordeciding, in questions relating to the real property of England; or what is more probable,the rules and determinations of the judgeswho surveyed the lands in the kingdom.
Thatdomhad the signification here explained iz capable of proof. The homager's oath, in the black book of Hereford, fol. 46, ends thus, "So helpe me God athis holydome(judgement) and by my trowthe," (troth, that is truth.)[71]This explanation coincides with the meening of the same syllable in other languages, and confirms the hypothesis of the common origin of the languages of Europe, laid down in the Notes to my Dissertations on the English Tung. We see the syllable in the Greek δαμαω, the Latindominus, (domo) and in the English wordtame; az also indoom,deem, kingdom.[72]In all theze words we observe one primitiv and several derivativ significations. Its primitiv sense is that of power or authority, az in Greek and Latin. In English, it stands for jurisdiction, a judge, or a sentence. Indeem, it denotes the act of the mind in judging, or forming its determinations.
The other syllabledeyiz probably the same word azley, law, with a different prepositiv article; for etymologists tel us, that the radical syllable waz often found in the muther tungey. Cowel informs us it waz notday, butdey; and another author writes itd'ey. The worddaysman, or az it ought to be speltdeysman, stil used both in England and America, is composed ofdeyandman, and signifies an arbitrator or judge, appointed to reconcile differences. In this country I hav often heerd it applied to our Savior, az mediator between God and man.
The ancient lawyers translate the Saxondom becanddomesdeybyliber judicialis; words which seem not to convey the ful meening of the original. I should translate them,liber judicum, the Judges book; orlex judicum, the Judges law or rule.
The old Saxon wordley, before mentioned, waz, in different dialects, or at different periods, writtenley,lah,lage,laga. It iz doubtless from the same root az the Latinlex,lege; and it is remarkable, that the same word anciently signifiedpeeple; and from this are derivedlayandlaity, the peeple as opposed to theclergy.[73]It iz probable that the primitiv sense of the word, in remote antiquity, wazpeople; and az the peeple made the laws in general assembly, so their orders or decrees came to be called by the same name. This conjecture iz not groundless, and is no trifling proof of the ancient freedom of our Gothic ancestors. Tacitus says expressly of the Germans, "De minoribus rebus principes consultant; de majoribusomnes." De Mor Germ. 11. The princes deliberate upon small matters, or perhaps decide private controverses of small moment; but laws of general concern are enacted in an assembly of all the peeple.
The origin ofParisheshaz puzzled all the lawyers and antiquaries of the English nation. Johnson, after his usual manner, recurs to the Greek, and derives the word from παροικια, accolarum conventus, an assemblage or collection of peeple in a naborhood. Others content themselves with deriving it from the Latinparochiaor Frenchparoisse. These etymologies do not satisfy me. It is improbable that our ancestors went to the Greek for names of places or divisions of territory, that existed in England az erly az the Heptarchy; especially az the Greek word before mentioned waz never used in the sense ofparish.Parochiacannot be the origin of parish; for it waz not a Roman word; on the other hand, it is merely a Gothic or Saxon word latinized by the erly writers on law; and to deriveparishfrom the Frenchparoisseis trifling; for we might as well deriveparoissefromparish, which iz at leest az ancient.
"It iz uncertain at what time England waz divided into parishes," say most of the law writers. Camden, in hiz Britannia, page 104, says, the kingdom waz first divided into parishes by Honorius, archbishop of Canterbury, in 636. This opinion iz controverted.Sir Henry Hobart thinks parishes were erected by the council of Lateran, in 1179. Selden, followed by Blackstone, supposes both to be rong, and shows that the clergy lived in common, without any distinction of parishes, long after the time mentioned by Camden; and it appeers by the Saxon laws, that parishes were known long before the council of Lateran.[74]
The truth probably iz, the kingdom was not divided into parishes at any one time, but the original ecclesiastical division grew, in a great measure, out of a prior civil division.Parishiz the most ancient division of the ecclesiastical state, and originally denoted thejurisdiction of a bishop, or what iz now called adiocese. For this opinion, we hav the authority of the Saxon laws and charters. "Ego Cealwulfus, dei gratia rex Merciorum, rogatus a Werfritho, Episcopo Hwicciorum, istam libertatem donavi, uttota parochia Hwiccioruma pastu equorum, regis et eorum qui eos ducunt, libera sit, &c." Charta Cealwulfi regis, Anno 872. "Episcopus, congregatis omnibus clericis totiusparochiæ, &c." in a passage quoted by Cowel tit.parish. Here thebishoprickiz explicitly called aparish, parochia; and Blackstone remarks, "it is agreed on all hands, that in the erly ages of christianity in this island, parishes were unknown, or at leest signified the same az adiocesedoes now." Com. Vol. I. 112.
This, being a settled point, wil perhaps furnish a clue by which we may find the true origin of the word and of the division.
It iz certain that there waz an ancient word among the Gothic nations, and probably among the Celtic, which signified originallya man, afterwards a freeman, or landholder, in opposition to that class of men who had no real property. This word waz spelt by the Romansvir, and signifieda man, by way of eminence, az distinguished fromhomo; az also a husband or householder. It answered to the ανηρ of the Greeks, az distinguished from ανθροπος, a word denoting the human race in general. The same word in the Gothic or ancientGerman waz speltbar;[75]and probably in some dialectspar, for the convertibility ofbwithpiz obvious to every etymologist.[76]In the Erse language, az Mc Pherson testifies,barsignifies a man. The word iz also pronouncedferorfear, which approaches nearer to the Latinvir:FergusorFerguthsignifies aman of wordor command. In modern Welsh, which iz the purest relict of the old Celtic,baris a son, andbarna judge. In the ancient Irish,brehonorbarhon, which iz merelybaronwith an aspirate, signified a judge. See Lhuyd, Mc Pherson, Ossian, p. 4. and Blackstone's Commentaries, Vol. I.