value; that it is a refinement with which they feel they have no concern; inasmuch as, under the best frame of Government, there is an inevitable dependence of the pool upon the rich—­of the many upon the few—­so unrelenting and imperious as to reduce this other, by comparison, into a force which has small influence, and is entitled to no regard.  Superadd civil liberty to national independence; and this position is overthrown at once:  for there is no more certain mark of a sound frame of polity than this; that, in all individual instances (and it is upon these generalized that this position is laid down), the dependence is in reality far more strict on the side of the wealthy; and the labouring man leans less upon others than any man in the community.—­But the case before us is of a country not internally free, yet supposed capable of repelling an external enemy who attempts its subjugation.  If a country have put on chains of its own forging; in the name of virtue, let it be conscious that to itself it is accountable:  let it not have cause to look beyond its own limits for reproof:  and,—­in the name of humanity,—­if it be self-depressed, let it have its pride and some hope within itself.  The poorest Peasant, in an unsubdued land, feels this pride.  I do not appeal to the example of Britain or of Switzerland, for the one is free, and the other lately was free (and, I trust, will ere long be so again):  but talk with the Swede; and you will see the joy he finds in these sensations.  With him animal courage (the substitute for many and the friend of all the manly virtues) has space to move in; and is at once elevated by his imagination, and softened by his affections:  it is invigorated also; for the whole courage of his Country is in his breast.

In fact:  the Peasant, and he who lives by the fair reward of his manual labour, has ordinarily a larger proportion of his gratifications dependent upon these thoughts—­than, for the most part, men in other classes have.  For he is in his person attached, by stronger roots, to the soil of which he is the growth:  his intellectual notices are generally confined within narrower bounds:  in him no partial or antipatriotic interests counteract the force of those nobler sympathies and antipathies which he has in right of his Country; and lastly the belt or girdle of his mind has never been stretched to utter relaxation by false philosophy, under a conceit of making it sit more easily and gracefully.  These sensations are a social inheritance to him:  more important, as he is precluded from luxurious—­and those which are usually called refined—­enjoyments.