It is my firm opinion, that neither temper nor talents have much dependence on climate. I cannot discover any probable exception, if it be not a taste for the fine arts. Where the influence of the sun is great, people are enervated with heat: where little, they are benumbed with cold. A clear sky, with moderate heat, exhibit a very different scene: the chearfulness they produce disposes men to enjoyment of every kind. Greece, Italy, and the Lesser Asia, are delicious countries, affording variety of natural beauties to feast every sense: and men accustomed to enjoyment, search for it in art as well as in nature; the passage from the one to the other being easy and inviting. Hence the origin and progress of statuary and of painting, in the countries mentioned. It has not escaped observation, that the rude manners of savages are partly owing to the roughness and barrenness of uncultivated land. England has few natural beauties to boast of: even high mountains, deep valleys, impetuous torrents, and such other wild and awful beauties, are rare. But of late years, <63> that country has received manifold embellishments from its industrious inhabitants; and in many of its scenes may now compare with countries that are more favoured by the sun or by nature. Its soil has become fertile, its verdure enlivening, and its gardens the finest in the world. The consequence is what might have been foreseen: the fine arts are gaining ground daily. May it not be expected, that the genius and sensibility of the inhabitants, will in time produce other works of art, to rival their gardens? How delightful to a true-hearted Briton is the prospect, that London, instead of Rome, may become the centre of the fine arts!
Sir William Temple is of opinion, that courage depends much on animal food. He remarks, that the horse and the cock are the only animals of courage that live on vegetables. Provided the body be kept in good plight, I am apt to think, that the difference of food can have little influence on the mind. Nor is Sir William’s remark supported by experience. Several small birds, whose only food is grain, have no less courage than the cock. The wolf, the fox, the vulture, on the other hand, are<64> not remarkable for courage, though their only food is the flesh of animals.14
The colour of the Negroes, as above observed, affords a strong presumption of their being a different species from the Whites; and I once thought, that the presumption was supported by inferiority of understanding in the former. But it appears to me doubtful, upon second thoughts, whether that inferiority may not be occasioned by their condition. A man never ripens in judgment nor in prudence but by exercising these powers. At home, the negroes have little occasion to exercise either: they live upon fruits and roots, which grow without culture: they need little clothing: and they erect houses without trouble or art.* Abroad, they are miserable slaves, having no encouragement either to think or to act. Who can say how far they might improve in a state of freedom, were they obliged, like Europeans, to procure bread with the sweat of<65> their brows? Some nations in Negroland, particularly that of Whidah, have made great improvements in government, in police, and in manners. The negroes on the Gold coast are naturally gay: they apprehend readily what is said to them, have a good judgment, are equitable in their dealings, and accommodate themselves readily to the manners of strangers. And yet, after all, there seems to be some original difference between the Negroes and Hindows. In no country are food and raiment procured with less labour than in the southern parts of Hindostan, where the heat is great: and yet no people are more industrious than the Hindows.15
I shall close the survey with some instances that seem to differ widely from the common nature of man. The Giagas, a fierce and wandering nation in the heart of Africa, are in effect land-pirates, at war with all the world. They indulge in polygamy; but bury all their children the moment of birth, and choose in their stead the most promising children taken in war. There is no principle among animals more prevalent than affection to offspring: supposing the Giagas to be born without<66> hands or without feet, would they be more distinguishable from the rest of mankind?† To move the Giagas, at first, to murder their own children, and to adopt those of strangers, is a proof of some original principle peculiar to that people: and the continuance of the same practice among the persons adopted, is a strong instance of the force of custom prevailing over one of the most vigorous laws of nature.16 The author of an account of Guiana, mentioning a deadly poison composed by the natives, says, “I do not find, that even in their wars, they ever use poisoned arrows. And yet it may be wondered, that a<67> people living under no laws, actuated with no religious principle, and unrestrained by the fear of present or future punishment, should not sometimes employ that fatal poison for gratifying hatred, jealousy, or revenge. But in a state of nature, though there are few restraints, there are also fewer temptations to vice; and the different tribes are doubtless sensible, that poisoned arrows in war would upon the whole do more mischief than good.”17 This writer, it would seem, has forgot that prospects of future good or evil never have influence upon savages. Is it his opinion, that fear of future mischief to themselves, would make the negroes of New Guinea abstain from employing poisoned arrows against their enemies? To account for manners so singular in the savages of Guiana, there is nothing left but original disposition. The Japanese resent injuries in a manner that has not a parallel in any other part of the world: it would be thought inconsistent with human nature, were it not well vouched. Others wreak their resentment on the person who affronts them; but an inhabitant of Japan wreaks it on himself: he rips up his own belly. <68> Kempfer reports the following instance. A gentleman going down the great stair of the Emperor’s palace, passed another going up, and their swords happened to clash. The person descending took offence: the other excused himself, saying that it was accidental; adding, that the swords only were concerned, and that the one was as good as the other. I’ll show you the difference, says the person who began the quarrel: he drew his sword, and ripped up his own belly. The other, piqued at being thus prevented in revenge, hastened up with a plate he had in his hand for the Emperor’s table; and returning with equal speed, he in like manner ripped up his belly in sight of his antagonist, saying, “If I had not been serving my prince, you should not have got the start of me; but I shall die satisfied, having show’d you that my sword is as good as yours.” The same author gives an instance of uncommon ferocity in the Japanese, blended with manners highly polished. In the midst of a large company at dinner, a young woman, straining to reach a plate, unwarily suffered wind to escape. Ashamed and confounded, she raised her breasts<69> to her mouth, tore them with her teeth, and expired on the spot. The Japanese are equally singular in some of their religious opinions. They never supplicate the gods in distress; holding, that as the gods enjoy uninterrupted bliss, such supplications would be offensive to them. Their holidays accordingly are dedicated to feasts, weddings, and all public and private rejoicings. It is delightful to the gods, say they, to see men happy. They are far from being singular in thinking that a benevolent Deity is pleased to see men happy; but nothing can be more inconsistent with the common feelings of men, than to hold, that in distress it is wrong to supplicate the Author of our being for relief, and that he will be displeased with such supplication. In deep affliction, there is certainly no balm equal to that of pouring out the heart to a benevolent Deity, and expressing entire resignation to his will.
In support of the foregoing doctrine, many particulars still more extraordinary might have been quoted from Greek and Roman writers: but truth has no occasion for artifice; and I would not take advan-<70>tage of celebrated names to vouch facts that appear incredible or doubtful. The Greeks and Romans made an illustrious figure in poetry, rhetoric, and all the fine arts; but they were little better than novices in natural history. More than half of the globe was to them the Terra Australis incognita; and imagination operates without controul, when it is not checked by knowledge: the ignorant at the same time are delighted with wonders; and the most wonderful story is always the most welcome. This may serve as an apology for ancient writers, even when they relate and believe facts to us incredible. Men at that period were ignorant in a great measure of nature, and of the limits of her operations. One concession will chearfully