numerable statutes, and life and health be left at the
mercy of every one who has the hardihood to assert
and persist in a falsehood?
The following pieces, to wit: — " What is Truth '/" "De-
sire of distinction'' and "Theology" should have been in-
serted in the first number. But they were torn from the
copy of the work with which the printing of this edition*
was commenced, and we were unable to procure an-
other, until it was too late to insert them in their proper
order. The reader, however, will see that this trans-
position is unimportant, as the pieces are not connected
with any others. Publisher.
WHAT IS TRUTH!
What is truth? This inquiry has been made by thou-
sands in all ages o( the world, yet still remains unan-
swered. We have neither discovered what it is, nor
where it may be found. Some of the ancients went down
to look for this jewel in the bowels of the earth. They
said that truth was at the bottom of a well, probably to
signify that it was acquired by immense labor and with
great difficulty. These philosophers have thought pro-
per to bring up truth from the shades; but a much more
numerous class has deduced its origin from above. Was
it the angel Gabriel that brought down the leaves of
the koran for the illustrious Mohammed? These were
•aid to contain the very quintescence of truth, and
F2
66 THE SAVAGE.
teach every thing that was necessary to be known by
the children of men.
How many gods, and how many goddesses, at differ-
ent times, have left the starry pavement of the celestial
regions and come down for our instruction and enter-
tainment? Among the Greeks and among the Romans,
how many sages caught inspiration! how many sibyls
uttered the oracles of the divinity! Yet, notwithstand-
ing all the benevolent exertions of gods and demi-gods,
heroes and sages, we still remained enveloped in thick
darkness until the "dayspring from on high" shed its
effulgence on earth and even yet we grope through
a darkness that may be felt; we wander cheerlessly
through the "valley of the shadow of death" where no
one can afford us assistance.
What is truth? and where can it be found? The che-
mist expectsHo rind it in his crucible; the mathemati-
cian sees it in a triangle, a circle, or a parallelogram;
and the metaphysician discovers it in the eternal fitness
of things.
Great was the search, some hundred years ago, for
the philosopher's stone, for the alkahest, and lor the
elixir of life; but some sceptics assert that there is no
philosopher's stone, no alkahest, no elixir of life.
Some have drawn a comparison between these alche-
mists and the investigators of truth: they assert there
is no truth in a well; they aver that it is not to be found
in the crucible q( the chemist; and they pronounce,
without hesitation, that there is no such thing as a cir-
cle, a triangle, or a parallelogram in nature. They say
that when we follow truth we pursue a phantom of the
imagination, and are led away by an ignis fatuus which
will entice us forward to swamps of difficulty, to a re-
gion of doubts and a land of shadows. They tell us
that the theory of the metaphysician is equally erro-
neous; that there is no eternal fitness of things; that
there is nothing but discordance and opposition in rebus
naturae.
When tired with this sceptical philosophy, we may
THE SAVAGE. 67
listen to the precepts of another not less gloomy. Truth,
they say, may exist, hut is unworthy of* so much labor
and fatigue. There mny he such a thing as the philo-
sopher's slone — as a universal dissolvent — as tiic elixir
of immortality; but the discovery would be productive
of the most serious consequences in the great economy
of nat'/re. Let us amuse ourselves, say they, with the
pleasing delusions of life, and not lose our time in search-
ing after realities. Nature has hung out a thousand
painted deceptions to hide from our eyes the real nature
of things. Is not this a sufficient intimation that that
which is concealed is disagreeable? Is there any such
thing as colors inherent in bodies? yet without this pleas-
ing illusion, what a world of deformity should we have!
Nature is the very grave of abomination. Well: tear
down the wall of the whited sepulchre, and within you
will rind — "rottenness and dead men's bones." O! ye
creatures of the moment, let us dance after the rainbow
of hope, and revel in the light and airy fields of imagin-
ation. Let us skim lightly over the surface of nature; the
flowers grow on the surface; and honey may be extracted
from flowers. Let us be content with the trimming-, the
colorings, the hangings that immediately meet the eye:
they are designed to conceal the gloomy walls of our
apartment.
Let us look back upon our past lives and examine our
own minds (hat we may see if there be not more happi-
ness in error than in reality. Which have be^n our hap-
piest moments? those, in which we have searched suc-
cessfully into the nature of things? those, in which the
light of truth lias beamed upon our heads, and enabled
us to discover, with precision, the surrounding objects?
I am afraid that the result of our investigation will be,
that our days of bliss were days of ignorance; and we
shall be led to conclude, with the preacher, that in
"much knowledge there is much grief." Should we not
rather endeavor to multiply these happy delusions than
to clear them away? If light discover nothing but"sights
of wo," had we not better remain in darkness? My sick
68 THE SAVAGE.
brother is asleep; he dreams of light, life and joy. I see
a smile on his countenance. Shall I awake him to a life
of misery, sorrow and pain? Or shall I not rather re-
move every intruding noise, darken the windows, and
leave him to repose?
Children are happy : and were men content to remain
children through life, they might be happy also. But
when they become infatuated with the desire of know-
ledge, and, with a daring hand, attempt to remove the
veil with which nature has thought proper to cover the
ark which contains her secrets, their happiness is blight-
ed. Foolish men! to break the glasses through which
their mothers and nurses were content to receive the rays
of knowledge! Foolish men! to soar with waxen wing?
above the atmosphere of prejudice which surrounds the
dwellings of their fathers! Render not, O ye sons of men,
the common occurrences of life insipid, by your folly,
which you are pleased to d igni fy with the name of wisdom.
Be as other men. Seize the rattle of folly; dance to
the piping of a giddy multitude; write treatises con-
cerning eternity in the sand; build pyramids of snow
to immortalize your names; erect dams with gray haired
children in the mountain torrent; and sport with your
brother insects in the sunbeams of the evening. — But
should truth present her flambeau to your eyes — the
illusion is gone — the "painted clouds that beautify our
days" are vanished; and — great God! what a waste —
"dark dismal wild" — appears! What a chaos of forms
without reality! What myriads of shadows, without
substance, fleet through a universe of nonentities!
Fiction is lovely; O ye sons of men, rejoice in her
smiles: but fly from the chambers of Truth; she is a
gorgon, a hydra, a fury! —
What shall we say, when we hear the various opinions
of men on these subjects? What shall we do, but mourn
over the folly, the imbecility, the insanity of man!
THE SAVAGE. 69
DESIRE OF DISTINCTION.
The desire of distinction is so strong in the human
mind, that men lay hold of any thing however insigni-
ficant (hat may render them conspicuous. Is a man, by
some accidentia few inches taller than another; you may
immediately perceive that he values himself on his tow-
ering figure. Is he well set, and possessed of brawny
limbs; you will find him anxiously contending for pre-
eminence by measuring round the breast or taking the
circumference of the thigb, with his athletic competitors.
I cannot remember of having observed any of these
candidates for fame who were desirous of the distinction
arising from the prominence of their bellies; yet nothing
is more common than to hear a man boast of having
swallowed so many oysters, eaten so many eggs, de-
voured so many pounds of beef steaks, &c. What honor
do these idiots expect to derive from the strength of
their stomachs or the capacity of their paunches?
Why, they hope to have it said in some tavern or
beerhouse that "John Gormand is the damnedest fellow
to eat that ever lived. He demolished, the other day, at
the sign of the Mousetrap, a whole round of beef, eatten
dozen of oysters, ten dozen of eggs, five pound of cheese,
drank a gallon of beer, and then refused to pay 25 cents
for his dinner, because there was not a sufliciency of
provisions."
I knew two graziers to lay a very considerable bet on
who could eat the most lobster. Both eat till they could
not walk and then left the matter undetermined. The
gentlemen were wealthy: they did not gormandize for
the money that was betted, but for the sake of an in*
mortal name. Such men appear determined to deprive
"Robin a Bobbin the Bigbellied Hen" of his long es-
tablished superiority: of whose exploits, in this way, it
is recorded in heroic verse that "he would eat more than
threescore men;" that
"A cow and a calf,
An ox and a half,
70 THE SAVAGE.
Was Robin a Bobbin's morning bit."
And afterwards, it is sublimely added, that
u He licked the ladle, anil swallowed the spoon,
And was not full when all was done."
There are others, who are scarcely less deserving of a
statue than those last mentioned, who plume themselves
on having drunk bottles of brandy, decanted dozens of
madeira, and swilled oceans of port. Such heroes shall
have a niche in the Temple of Fame, about to be es-
tablisheh under the direction of the savage Piomingo.
THEOLOGY.
The ancient Greeks and Romans worshipped a multi-
tude of gods: the heavens, the earth, and hades swarm-
ed with innumerable divinities. All the virtues and vices
of humanity, and all the operations of nature, were un-
der the direction of superintending deities: and these
gods being unaccountably prolific, there was no space
left in nature that did not teem with their progeny. The
progress of science and the light of the gospel have con-
tributed to lessen the number of immortals. Jupiter has
forsaken the Capitol, the thunder has been wrested from
his hand, and the father of gods and men is forgotten.
Neptune has lost the dominion of the waves, and Pluto,
the empire of the shades. The sun is no longer in the
chariot of Apollo, nor the moon under the regency of
his sister. Paphos and Cyprus are deserted by Venus,
and Samos and Argos by Juno. Mercury has lost his
wand, and Pallas her egis. Etna and Lemnos remain;
but where is the blacksmith of Jupiter? The wind raises
the waves without the assistanceof Eolus, and the storm
is calmed without the interference of Neptune. Bac-
chus is deprived of his thyrsis, and the mysteries of
Ceres are secure from profanation. Thetis and the ne-
reids are no more; we hear not the shell of the tritons.
The dryads and hamadryads have forsaken the woods,
and the naiads deserted the fountains. Hippocrene is
THE SAVAGE. 71
dry; the muses have escaped to heaven. The shepherds
have lost the protection of Pan, and the orchards the
care of Pomona. Priapus has ceased to "fray away*' the
birds,or interrupt the incantation of witches. No longer
'•Satyrs and sylvan boys are seen,
Peeping from fortli their alleys green."
The harpies are expelled from their kingdom; and the
sirens have ceased to practice their allurements.
Charon has been shipwrecked in the Styx; Ccberus
has been deprived ot his heads; and the snakes have
been taken from the furies. Minos is no longer judge;
Phlcgcthon has ceased to burn; and the frogs of hell
have desisted from croaking. The wheel of Ixion re-
volves no longer; the Danaides have filled their urns;
and Sisyphus rests from his labors. The pythia is not
forced to the tripod; the cave of Trophoni us is neglected;
and the smoke of the sacrifice has ceased to ascend. —
Where is the oak of Dodona? where arc the sibyls of
Cuma?
But there is one of the ancient divinities who has
maintained his situation in opposition to the efforts of
philosophy and the benign influence of the gospel. He
is worshipped with more sincere devotion at this day,
than he has been at any former period. His temples
are crowded from morning until evening by humble vo-
taries of all sexes and ages. They do not serve him
with "mere lip service;" for they have "his law written
in their hearts." He is not the true God: yet they adore
him "with all their heart, and with all their soul, and
with all their strength, and with all their mind." They
offer up at his shrine, as freewill offerings, every thing
that is precious and valuable. He is not Moloch ; yet they
make their children pass through the fire for his sake.
He is a very old god, and has performed innumerable
exploits of the most heroic kind. A thousand volumes,
in folio, would not be sufficient to contain the thousandth
part of the wonders he has effected. What are the la-
bors of Hercules, the feats of Samson, the wars of the
giants, the building of pyramids, the turning aside of
72 THE SAVAGE.
rivers, and removing mountains? What are such trifles
as these when compared with the stupendous operations
of the god of the civilized world?
Question: Who is he?
Answer: He was worshipped by the children of Is-
rael in the wilderness, when Moses tarried so long in
the mount. Do you know him?
There arc not seven thousand in the United States,
who have not bowed the knee to this Baal of the mo-
derns, and whose lips have not kissed him. By the an-
cients he was called Plutus; in heaven, he is not known;
and on earth, he is yclept The Mammon of unrighteous-
ness.
THE SAVAGE— NO. VI.
VIRTUE.
It has already been proved, that the direct tendency
of what is called civilization is to create and perpetuate
a disparity among men; and, that as civilization progresses
the number of the refined is diminished and that of the
debased and degraded part of the community increased
in the like proportion. The great majority of the people,
therefore, never become sharers in this refinement
which is so highly eulogized by authors who understand
not the subject they have undertaken to discuss. They
have said much in favor of the diffusion of knowledge;
but knowledge can never be generally diffused under the
present constitution of society. How can* men acquire
knowledge who are condemned, by their necessities, to
neverending labor? Much may be said in favor of those
arts which humanize the mind, and soften the ferocious
passions of man; but it is not considered that this hu-
manized and softened being requires the assistance and
servitude of a dozen beings, who are brutalized and de-
graded in the same proportion that he is refined and
exalted.
Hereafter we will endeavor to form a proper estimate
THE SAVAGE,
of the enjoyments of the polished luxurious man who
requires that others should be miserable and wretched
that he may become splendid and great: at present we
will confine our ideas to that immense majority of man-
kind, the laboring poor.
Are they virtuous?
When a man of this description becomes capable of
reflection, he immediately perceives the disadvantages
:>f his situation : there are privileges to which he must not
ispire; there are enjoyments of which he must not par-
take. He linds himself necessitated to labor continually
for a wretched subsistence, while others enjoy leisure,
amusement and pleasure without any exerton of their
)wn. These circnmstances have a natural tendency to
-our and imbitter his mind. Envy and malignity take
up their residence in his heart; but as he sees no op-
portunity of improving his situation, he becomes as stu-
pid as an "ass couching down between two burdens."
He is despised by the world; and he despises himself.
When he sees that he is utterly contemptible in the
estimation of others, how is it possible that he should
yaule himself, or retain any.ideaof personal importance
Dr dignity of character? It is not possible.
Honoris a powerful incentive to virtuous actions; but
:ionor has no influnce with the wretch that I describe.
Shame, in certain societies, will prevent a man from
falling into vitious pursuits ; but shame has no power over
victim of relinemert. He is already contemptible,
-led, miserable: what more can he fear?
When you have destroyed, by your boasted civiliza-
tion, every motive to virtue, and every preventive of
vice, in the great body of the people, do you notwith-
standing, expect to find them virtuous? We will under-
take to say, that you are very unreasonable in your ex-
pectations; and that you will most assuredly be disap-
pointed. We assert with cnfidence that the great body
of the poor, in every civilized society, are not only de-
graded but wicked and malignant. Whence arises the
multiplicity of your laws, but from the multitude of crimes
G
74 THE SAVAGE.
that are found in the mass of the community? They are
necessarily vitious, yet the circumstances of society re-
quire that they should be punished. And all this collec-
tion of miseries and crimes is created and supported by
the sickly and effeminate refinement of a few, who have
deserted nature and sought out for themselves factitious
and enervating enjoyments, at the expense of the virtue
and happiness of millions of their species.
Those who will not take time to reflect, may suppose
that we exaggerate when we affirm that the indigent
man is compelled by the circumstances of his situation
to practise continual dissimulation. He dare not, he can-
not, approach his superior with the easy confidence of
virtue. He must not speak what is true, but what he
supposes will be agreeable. His neighbor is rich and con-
sequently powerful; he must therefore, as far as he is
able, endeavor to countervail this ascendency, by flat-
tery and dissimulation. He asks justice as a favor, and
begs the contemptible pittance he receives for his labor
with the whining tone of a mendicant.
There is no object in nature so disgusting as to see
one man crawling to and fawning on another. We may
pity the base grovelling wretch, but we must and do de-
spise him. Can this creature be virtuous? He may be
deterred from atrocious crimes by the terrors of the law;
but his mind is necessarily and radically depraved.
The necessity that the indigent man is under, of re-
ceiving favors from the hand of opulence, humbles and
enervates the mind. One man may safely receive benefits
from another if he have it in his power to make a suitable
return; but the moment he incurs an obligation from
which he cannot disengage himself at pleasure, that mo-
ment he becomes a slave. His mind is brought into thral-
dom, and his soul is obliged to acknowledge a master.
The supposed benefactor may insult him with impunity.
He can turn neither to the right hand nor to the left
without sullying the purity of his virtue. If he should
resent an injury, he is ungratetul ; if he submit in silence,
it is imputed to baseness and cowardice of spirit. And
THE SAVAGE. t *)
rv thing poverty receives from wealth is accounted a
favor. If we lend a rich man a few dollars, it is consider-
ed merely as an act of common courtesy, and we think
of it no more: but if we lend half the sum to a man who
want; what then? Why we conceive that we lay
him under an eternal obligation: and should he ever after
refuse to comply with our demands, however unjust or
unreasonable, we publish to the world his baseness and
ingratitude, and extol to the skies our own humanity and
beneficence.
Should an indigent neighbor pass through our field
and accidentally do some slight damage to our property;
if we do not prosecute him for a trespass, we are loud
in the praise of our own lenity and forbearance: but if
the trespasser be opulent, though the damage be much
greater, we are pleased that he has presumed upon our
good nature, and thank him for the liberty he has taken.
Does a person of figure and genteel address accost us
in the street and desire some information concerning a
neighboring church or other public building, we attend
to his requests with the utmost complaisance, and are
highly gratified that he should think us worthy to be his
intelligencer; but should a ragged miserable mortal have
the assurance to make the same demand, we are aston-
ished at his effrontery, and pass him with a glance of
the most sovereign contempt — or, admitting that we had
just risen from dinner, where we had eaten and drunk
freely, and consequently were in that happy disposition
of mind which renders us averse to every species of
contention — if, from all these causes, we should return
a kindly and condescending answer, we would admire our
own politeness and urbanity, and conceive the poor de-
vil to be under infinite obligations to our good nature.
Now, how can a man who is continually receiving fa-
vors, and feels the impossibility of making suitable re-
turns, maintain a proper degree of self respect? And
the man who has no respect for himself will be careh ss
in the performance of duties that have no immediate
connexion with his interest.
76 THE SAVAGE.
From such considerations as the foregoing we deduce
the conclusion, that the progress of civilization is unfa-
vorable to the practice of virtue, because it places an
immense majority of the human race in a situation
which renders them incapable of virtuous exertions —
in a situation where they are almost inevitably com-
pelled to become villous. [To he continued.']
JUSTICE.
We have somewhere read of a people who asked no-
thing, in their prayers to the gods, but justice. In this
they appear to have done wisely: for, had they asked for
any thing else, can it be supposed that their requests
would have been granted?
Justice is the perfection of virtue: it may be sup-
posed to arise from the relation all created beings bear
to each other and to their creator. From all these rela-
tions there originate certain rights: Whoever acts in
conformity with these, acts justly; but whoever violates
them, acts unjustly.
Ovid says that the goddess of justice has deserted the
earth; and we believe he is correct in the assertion:
Virgo casde madentes
â– Ultima crelestum terras Astrrra reliquit.
However, we are inclined to believe that she was the
first, and not the last, of the celestials who deserted the
earth and winged their flight to the etherial regions.
One thing is certain: she is not here.
There is a strange Protean being who has usurped her
name, but possesses none of her qualities, found among
us. This pseudo-justice is extremely accommodating
to the weaknesses and passions, but most of all to the
interests of men. She studies what will be accounted
the interest of a nation, or of an individual ; and she says
to that nation, or that individual, this is justice. There is
one thing observable in her conduct: she always adheres
to the strongest side. She is a friend to good order and
regular government as long as government is able to
support itself: but the moment that its weakness is dis-
THE SAVAGE. 77
covered, she ranges herself on the side of anarchy and
confusion* She assisted at the massacre of the whites
in St. Domingo, and is an advocate for the slave trade
in Jamaica. In Russia she speaks in favor of despotism;
in England she advocates the dominion of the seas; and
in France she brings the crowns of the sovereigns of
rope and lays them at the feet of Napoleon. She is n
nice observer of times, places and circumstances. She is
a mahometan, a christian, a pagan, a catholic, a protes-
tant, a royalist, a republican, a jacobin, an imperialist,
as the power shifts from the hands of one party to those
of the other. She worships the rising sun, observes the
rourse of the wind, and was never known to row against
ihe tide.
THE GRAVE.
When Diogenes was about to die, he was asked what
should be done with his body. The cynic ordered it to
be carried out and left unburied in the fields. "What,"
said his friends, "shall it be left exposed as a prey to the
birds and wild beasts?" "Lay a staff near me," replied
the dying philosopher, "with which I may drive them
away." "How can you drive them away," demanded his
friends, "since you will not perceive them?" "What
harm can they do me," said Diogenes, "if when they
devour my flesh, I do not perceive them?"