there is no such being as a misanthrope. the men designated by this name, may be divided into many classes. in one class i see men of philosophic minds, revolted by our vices, or shocked by our contradictions, who censure these universal traits with a blunt frankness. their disgust springs from the evils, which the universal follies of the age have shed upon our career. but if they really hated men, would they wield the pen of satire, in striving to correct them?

another class consists of those unfortunate beings, who hope to find peace only in solitude. they fly a world which has pierced their heart with cruel wounds; and perhaps avow, in words, an implacable hatred towards men. but their sensibility belies their avowal; and we soothe their griefs, as soon as we ask their services.

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finally, there are those who strive only to render themselves singular, who are really less afflicted, than whimsical; rather officious than observing. these would tire us with the avowal of their love of mankind, if they did not deem that they render themselves more piquant and original by declaring that they hate them.

we may excuse indignation towards prejudices, contradictions and vices. but how can man have merited hatred or contempt? man is good. such is his primitive character, which he can never entirely efface. good, but seduced, erring and unhappy, he has claims upon our most tender interest.

i do not propose to vex the question whether man is born good? i consider him to be born without either virtue or vice. but as he advances in life, nature arranges everything around him in such a manner, as ought to render him good. a mother is the first object that offers to his view. the first words which he hears express the tenderest affection. caresses inspire his first sentiments; and his first occupations are sports.

too soon, it is true, very different objects surround him. as he grows into life, he is struck with such a general spectacle of injustice, as reverses his ideas, and sours his character. but, although the contagion reaches him, and the passions and prejudices degrade him, some traits of his primitive goodness will always remain in his heart.

even those terrible enthusiasts, who thrust themselves forward in the effervescence of party, who, to give triumph to their cause, blow up the incipient flame of civil discord, and with an unshrinking hand raise the sword of proscription, these fanatics may be strangers to every[97] humane sentiment. yet many of them are seen to love their wives and children with tenderness, and to preserve in the bosom of their family, so to speak, the germs of innocence. robbers, the horror of society, whom the gibbet claims, honor themselves with some acts of humanity; and tyrants have their days of clemency.

during great calamities, natural sentiments develope themselves, and form a touching contrast with the scenes of horror with which they are surrounded. when a destructive conflagration is sweeping along a city, there are no distinctions, no animosities among the wretched sufferers, whom the same terror pursues. enemies forget their hatred, and partisans their parties. the rich and poor cry out together. all love and aid each other. misfortune has broken down the separating barriers of pride and prejudice, and they find each other good and equal.

even upon the theatre of war, where the spectacle of destruction excites an appetite to destroy, we often discover affecting traces of humanity. at the siege of mentz, in 1795, i remember that the advanced guards of the attack on the left, occupied an english garden, near the village of montback. the garden was completely destroyed. the walks and labyrinths were changed, by the trampling of the soldiers, into high roads. batteries were raised upon the mounds, from distance to distance, around which still grew rare trees and shrubs. the french bivouacs banished the verdure of the bowling greens; and in advance of them, a half overturned kiosk served for the front guard of the austrians. the nearest water was on their side; the nearest wood on the side of the french. to obtain water, the french[98] threw their canteens to the austrians, who filled them and sent them back again. when night drew on, the french soldiers, in return, cut wood for the austrians, and dragged fagots between the videttes of the two armies. thus, waiting the signal to cut each other’s throat, the advance guards lived in peace, and made exchanges like those between friendly people. this spectacle excited in me a profound emotion; and i was scarcely able to refrain from tears, in seeing men, so situated, still good, on a soil red with blood.[24]

this primitive goodness is not the only beautiful trait which is continually developing to our view in human nature. for men to be generous, and magnanimous, the soul never entirely loses the elevation, which it received from its author.

under oppression, in degradation, in slavery, men still preserve some impress of their first dignity. those outrages which inflict personal humiliation, are among the most frequent causes of revolutions; and, perhaps tyrants incur less danger in shedding the blood of citizens, than in insulting them. an outrage upon a woman was the signal of the liberty of rome. a similar crime drew on the fall of the pisistrati, who had found no obstacle in overturning the laws of their country. the swiss and danes supported the rigors of a tyrannic yoke in silence. they arose the first day in which their oppressors exacted of them an act of degradation. genoa had been conquered. an austrian officer struck a man of the lower class. the indignant genoese flew to arms, and drove away their conquerors.

under the most absolute despotism, we sometimes see the subjects preserving magnanimous sentiments;[99] and not being able to give them a useful direction, put forth, to serve their master, a courage equal to that with which free citizens honor themselves in serving their country. of this i might cite striking proofs from the history of even barbarous nations.

a convincing demonstration, that an innate principle of elevation exists in the soul, results from the universality of religious ideas. man is discouraged by his errors, his infirmities and faults in vain. an interior voice admonishes him of his high destination. transient as he is, and comparatively lost in the immensity of the universe, he invokes the divinity to sanctify the union of his espousals, and to preside over the birth of his infants. he raises his voice to him over the tombs of his fathers. when the contemplation of the works of the eternal has inspired him with humble sentiments of himself, he still deems himself superior to all the beings that surround him. occupying but a point on the globe, his disquieting thoughts embrace the universe. he beholds time devouring the objects of his affections, crumbling monuments and overturning even the works of nature. from the midst of the ruins he aspires to immortality.[24a]

what would not these sentiments, at once elevated and good, these precious germs produce, were they developed by happy circumstances! that they exist in the human bosom is a sufficient indication that we owe a tender interest to the being who possesses them. let us love our kind, and cultivate the virtues which render us worthy of their affection.