in the world, of a
kind of epidemick bravery, diffused equally through all its ranks. We
can show a peasantry of heroes, and fill our armies with clowns, whose
courage may vie with that of their general.

There may be some pleasure in tracing the causes of this plebeian
magnanimity. The qualities which, commonly, make an army formidable, are
long habits of regularity, great exactness of discipline, and great
confidence in the commander. Regularity may, in time, produce a kind of
mechanical obedience to signals and commands, like that which the
perverse cartesians impute to animals; discipline may impress such an
awe upon the mind, that any danger shall be less dreaded, than the
danger of punishment; and confidence in the wisdom, or fortune, of the
general may induce the soldiers to follow him blindly to the most
dangerous enterprise.

What may be done by discipline and regularity, may be seen in the troops
of the Russian emperess, and Prussian monarch. We find, that they may be
broken without confusion, and repulsed without flight.

But the English troops have none of these requisites, in any eminent
degree. Regularity is, by no means, part of their character: they are
rarely exercised, and, therefore, show very little dexterity in their
evolutions, as bodies of men, or in the manual use of their weapons, as
individuals; they neither are thought by others, nor by themselves, more
active, or exact, than their enemies, and, therefore, derive none of
their courage from such imaginary superiority.

The manner in which they are dispersed in quarters, over the country,
during times of peace, naturally produces laxity of discipline: they are
very little in sight of their officers; and, when they are not engaged
in the slight duty of the guard, are suffered to live, every man his own
way.

The equality of English privileges, the impartiality of our laws, the
freedom of our tenures, and the prosperity of our trade, dispose us very
little to reverence superiours. It is not to any great esteem of the
officers, that the English soldier is indebted for his spirit in the
hour of battle; for, perhaps, it does not often happen, that he thinks
much better of his leader than of himself. The French count, who has
lately published the Art of War, remarks, how much soldiers are
animated, when they see all their dangers shared by those who were born
to be their masters, and whom they consider, as beings of a different
rank. The Englis