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shame, the last barrier of virtue, is taking its leave even of that part of the fair sex, who would scorn any imputation on their character. But, in another point of view, the present times exhibit a still more unfavourable and alarming aspect.

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I am not conscious of a cynical disposition; but I must confess, that according to my observations, the character of the age is a mental indifference and apathy-and insensibility of disposition-a selfishness of so narrow and contracted a kind, as to defeat its own purposes-an absence of shame--a contempt for opinion-a disregard to appearances, to events, and to consequences. It seems to me that the human mind is becoming callous, and approaching to a state of torpor. This dreadful change may in a great degree be attributed to a long series of prosperity -to-habits of ease and indulgence, as well as of luxury and dissipation-to the facility with which not only the necessaries, but the comforts of life may be obtained. The vigour both of mind and body depends upon exertion; and both become debilitated in proportion as their powers are suffered to lie dormant. The great improvements which mankind have made in commerce, agriculture, and arts, enable them to acquire the means of subsistence at a much less expence of labour, than heretofore was necessary for the same purpose; and every class of society is in the possession of enjoyments, which were formerly confined to those of a superiour station. Hence it is, that those habits of industry, economy, and self-denial, which are calculated to infuse vigour into the mind are considerably weakened, and the langour and love of ease, which have succeeded to activity and diligence, have produced habits of life, which are calculated by a kind of reaction, to increase the cause from which they proceed. Among those habits, may be reckoned that new arrangement of time, which excludes the invigorating influence of early rising andrly rest, and which obliges us, that we may be able to drag through our business, to delay our meals until the stomach has almost lost its powers of converting them into the means of nourishment and strength. The consequence of all this appears. to be but a change of vices-a change, in my opinion, much for the worse—a change analagous to that which takes place in the human body, when, instead of the raging fever, which indicates a vigorous constitution, the deadening palsy exhibits a melancholy proof of the decay of the animal power.

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To this alteration in the character of the age, may be ascribed the alarming progress, and indeed the existence of Jacobinism, which, as naturally proceeds from such a cause, as contagion from putrefaction. What else could have engendered such characters as the modern Philosopher and the cold hearted Jacobin, who, without a feeling of repugnance, or an emotion of pity, can continue and accomplish the destruction of the whole human race? What else could have produced a system of such boundless mischief, as that which has for its object the overthrow of all the political and religious establishments of the earth-of the social order of the whole world. The obvious want of spirit and energy to defend those establishments could alone have afforded occasion to so flagitious a project Such a design would, probably, never have been conceived, if the human mind had been in its full vigour. But certainly it would never, in that case, have been attended with such success as we have now occasion to deplore.

But, perhaps, it may be asked, do not the conception of so daring a project, and the energy with which it has been pursued, abundantly refute my hypothesis of the mental apathy of the age? I answer, that these circumstances only prove the prone

ness of human nature to what is evil. The soil, from which labour alone can derive a rich harvest of nutritious grain, will spontaneously produce, in great abundance, the rank and noxious weed. And at all times the smooth and flowery descents of vice have presented an easy and tempting passage to those who have wanted resolution and vigour to ascend the craggy steeps of virtue. But the infernal system of jacobinism is so contrived as to call into action every corrupt and criminal pro. pensity, and even every foible and weakness of human nature. It not only holds out a gratification to every species of vice, publick and private, but it can assume the semblance of virtue, in order to cajole those who are conscious of no other wish than to promote the happiness of their fellow creatures; but who, for want of sound and sober judgment, and by their credit for good characters and good intentions, are easily rendered the greatest foes to that happiness. It can enlist in its service the mad speculatist and the fanatical reformer, as well as the most dissolute of mankind. It can address itself to every description of perIt flatters the young with an early independence-the

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vain with consequence-the ambitious with power-the restless and discontented with a change-the vicious with an indulgence of their passions-the inferiour orders of society with an equalization of rank and property, and every one with a removal of those restraints which he finds most irksome and grievous. No wonder then that this insidious and active principle, combining into one action, and directing to one end, the endeavours of all, who, from whatever motive, are dissatisfied with the subsisting order of things, and favoured by a relaxation of every religious and moral principle, by a licentiousness of manners, and by a listlessness and lukewarmness on the part of its opponents-no wonder then, I say, that this principle of jacobinism should have made so alarming a progress toward the overthrow of every so cial institution. On the contrary if the well disposed part mankind do not instantly rouse themselves to a sense of their danger-if they do not open their eyes on the gulf which is before them, and (laying aside that pernicious moderation, candour ́ and liberality, which have fostered the mischief into its present magnitude), if they do not call forth all their powers to avert the impending ruin-the only wonder will be, if in a very short space of time, they do not see the whole earth become one vast theatre of anarchy, carnage and desolation-one universal exhibition of those tragical scenes, of which the French revolution has been but the rehearsal, and which will terminate in the subjection of the miserable and spirit-broken survivors of the human race, to the merciless domination of the vilest of the species.Indeed, when I think of the astonishing unconcern with which mankind contemplate the tremendous example of France, and of every country where either French arms or the French,'principles have gained an ascendancy, I cannot help giving way to an apprehension that such infatuation is the result of supernatural influence, and that it has been decreed by Providence, for the benefit of posterity, to make the example more complete, and to warn future of the present race of men, aat the ages, expence gainst the adoption of those principles, which, under the imposing names of Philosophy, Philanthropy and Freedom, attack the very foundations of society, by inspiring a contempt for all authority, human and divine. Heaven grant that this melancholy apprehension may be unfounded! At all events, it is our duty to exert our utmost endeavours to counteract the growing mis

chief; and for my part, I am determined in case of the worst, not to have my portion of the general woe aggravated by the reproaches of my own conscience, but to secure to myself the consolatory reflection of having omitted nothing, within the scope of my humble powers, to avert so shocking a catastrophe.'

MILITARY DISCIPLINE.

THE determined perseverance of the American nation in the old system of military tacticks, which was practiced upon during the revolutionary war, would have a greater tendency to subvert the liberties of this country, on the supposition of an invasion by a foreign force, than perhaps any other defect in our system which can be imagined. Even our volunteers, at the best, are no better than men of lath; they are undoubtedly dressed in very smart uniforms, and perhaps their manœuvres are performed with considerable accuracy and adroitness. But they are not only radically defective in all the general principles of the system of modern tacticks, which has been introduced since the French revolution, but they seem essentially to depend upon mere excellence in show and outward forms, without possessing any quality which renders a soldier powerful in the field.

It is easy for a person to fancy himself a soldier, by scrupulously attending, during peace, to those minutia which are really insignificant in war; and it has been generally observed, that officers who make the most distinguished figure in time of peace, do not, in actual service, answer the expectations which they have raised. 'An officer of this class, who having served twenty or thirty years, has great difficulty in changing his pacifick habits: he hates war: and where there is a want of taste for an undertaking, it must be badly executed. Nothing can appear more astonishing to those who have not reflected upon it, than the extreme zeal which many officers of that description show for the subordinate minutia of parade. It is however the case with this, as with most other frivolous pursuits, that where they occupy the mind, they engross it more exclusively than those objects which require a higher exertion of the understanding. A collector of butterflies or tulips shows more zeal in his favourite studies, than a mathematician; and a mountebank

quack-doctor annexes higher importance to his infallible prescriptions than a regular physician. Officers who have been long accustomed to actual service, are fully aware of the relative importance of the subordinate parts of discipline; but it is not easy to describe the absurd importance which parade officers, who have never heard a gun fired upon service, ascribe to the smallest minutia of dress. It appears to them of greater consequence to have their troops smart upon parade, than active in their manœuvres ; and they seem to think that nothing renders a soldier so fit to meet an enemy, as fixing his cap upon one corner of his head, and exposing as much of it as they possibly can, bedaubed with soap and flour, to the wet and cold of a northern climate. No doubt, those officers must be very unfit to meet an enemy, who will not stay to examine whether the accoutrements of their men are well lackered, or their queues tied with singular regularity and precision. The height to which this attention to dress is raised in some individuals, exceeds all bounds of belief. We have heard an anecdote of a general officer (in what service we forbear to mention) who went with some of his friends to see the Consular troops reviewed at Paris. After inspecting the lines very narrowly, he was observed to return to his countrymen with a look of great satisfaction and importance. One of them whe was anxious to know the result of his observations, was at length informed, that he could assure him as a military man, that after looking at the whole line, he had not been able to find two neckcloths together, tied in the same manner.'* This was a very moderate instance of the disposition above alluded to: many more striking ones are well known.'

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A certain degree of attention to the clothing and equipment of troops is necessary; and even an excess of it may appear a very harmless foible. It would certainly be so, if it did not convert what ought to be a secondary object, into a principal one. When it is proposed to form the soldier for the different kinds of service which may be required, and to accustom him to such exercises as will inure him to fatigue, it is said that he is already sufficiently employed. This objection has long ago been answered by Guibert. Si l'on me dit,' says that enlightened author, que nos exerceses actuels les occupent déjà assez, je réqondrei que c'est parce que nos manœuvres sont trop compliquées, nos méthodes d'instruction mal entendues, notre prétention de précision et de perfection sur beaucoup de points, minutieuse et ridicule. Je répondrai que la preuve que nos soldats ne sont pas assez occupés, c'est que pour rempli, dit-on, leur temps, on les surcharge de régles de discipline, inquiétantes et odieuses. C'est qu'on a créé une tenue qui leur fait passer trois heures par jour à leur toilette, qui en fait des perruquiers, des polisseurs, des vernisseurs, tout en un mot, hormis des gens de gurre.'—Essai General de Tactique.

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