Kitabı oku: «A Collection of Essays and Fugitiv Writings», sayfa 16

No. XIX

 PHILADELPHIA, 1787.

On VOCAL 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, useful as 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 some useful object, or to harmless 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 a drunken clown, to make him a gentleman of strict 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 a band box macaroni is 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, the oaten reed, the harp and the lyre, 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 music loses 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 religious pieces 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! when false taste and false opinions shall vanish before the progress of truth; when princes shall resume their ancient and honorable task of teaching the young to be good and great; 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 a Benezet and a Washington shall obscure the glories of a Cæsar; and when no man shall be ashamed to be good, because it is unfashionable.

No. XX

 NEW YORK, JUNE, 1788.

On MORALITY

"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 its arbitrary 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 respecting theft? 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 of meum and tuum, 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 get a 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; the gentleman pursues 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 very honorably murdered. 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 more honorable way, when life is to be the price of satisfaction; but in cases of small affronts, they are content with privately stabbing the reputation 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 to wrong; 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 as right and wrong. I consider morality merely as it respects society; for if we superadd the obligations of a divine command, we blend it with religion; 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 defence and 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 that openly with the best of our men, which you do privately with the worst of 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, "frumenta non 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 on immutable principles of 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.

No. XXI

 NEW YORK, JUNE, 1788.

A LETTER from a LADY, with REMARKS

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 of honor would 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, he never 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 resenting trifling 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.

To CONSTANTIA

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 is deliberate 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 for eighteen months without an explicit and honorable declaration of his intention. A delicate, affectionate and respectful attention 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 of real honor and 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 be agreeable to 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 to adhere to the rules of honor. Never, Constantia, trust a man who deals largely in that hackneyed virtue, honor. Honor, in the fashionable sense of the word, is but another name for villany. The man of honor would 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 his honor, 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? That you 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 knows your worth, and may be disposed to reward your constancy.

It is a mortifying reflection to an honest mind, that bad hearts are so often suffered to giv pain to the good; that the trifling and the base of our sex are not constrained, by necessity, to associate only with the trifling and the base of 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 of principle. By principle, 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 of principle, then proceed to inquire into his standing in life. With principle he may make a woman happy in almost any circumstances; without it, birth, fortune and education serve but to render his worthlessness the more conspicuous. With sentiments of esteem, I am your obliged friend, and humble servant,

E.